The Way We Breathe
by VinVenture12
Summary: Struck with the curse of immortality at the age of nineteen, Rey wanders through existence half the person she used to be. Blaming herself for her husband's untimely death over a hundred years ago, she endures time rather than trying to live it. But when she meets a man with the same name and the same body as her deceased husband in modern day New York, truths begin to be revealed.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello dear readers! I've been sitting on this story for the past six months and finally decided to start posting it. I'm currently writing Orange Sky and I promise I will continue to do so. I am almost done with the next chapter! If you aren't reading it, feel free to check it out!**

**I do want to clarify a few things about this story.**

**One: the flashbacks take place in the early 1900's where Ben and Rey first meet. They have a ten year age gap, which starts with her being 11 and him 21. While their parents are arranging the two to marry in the future, nothing inappropriate goes on between the two till she marries him at 17. I know, 17 is young, but that's how the culture was back then. So please, no comments screaming at me about how she is underage or of their age difference.**

**Two: politics and religion are two of the most divisive things right now. I will not touch on politics in this story, but I do put my own twist on religion. This story does deal with lesser gods, which you will see once the story picks up speed. If you get offended by me taking the basis of Christianity and adding my own spin to it, don't read this story.**

**Three: I am not good at writing period scenes. So please be kind to me when reading the flashbacks! Also, I'm starting this story in the year 2020, but labeling it as present day. By the time this story is finished, it's going to be next year anyway. lol**

**This chapter hasn't been read by my beta yet, so I apologize for any mistakes!**

**And that's all I can think of at the moment. If there's anything else, I'll let you guys know!**

Chapter One: A Fog That Won't Lift

**Present Day – April 26, 2020**

105 years, 9 months, and 2 days.

3,337,459,200 seconds.

927,072 hours.

5,518 weeks… since his death.

It was like her body's inner clock was attuned to the day he had passed.

Rey closed her eyes, the book – though, she wasn't even really reading it – lowering to her lap as she tried to calm the rush of emotions inside her.

Guilt was a beguiling thing: it didn't lessen over time. If anything, it grew with each passing day as the excuses that were once believed faded from memory, as the line of thinking and justification became abstract. And all that was left were her own actions that stood out with crystal clarity.

It was her fault Ben had been killed.

No. Murdered.

She didn't want to dress it up with a nicer word. She wanted it harsh, the word like sandpaper dragging across her conscience. She wanted to use that noun to obliterate whatever was left of her true name, Lorraine Kenobi.

It really shouldn't be surprising anymore that she still constantly thought of Ben since the day he was taken from her – the way his lifeless eyes stared at nothing; the blood that haloed around his head on the floor; his lips that had once been crimson and had kissed her in parting turning pale and lifeless.

After all this time, she should be used to this by now. Having him everywhere – in her thoughts, dreams, making his home in her marrow and infusing with her DNA. Immortality was a curse, especially since it hit her at the young age of nineteen. It gave her too much time to think and reminisce. To hate herself and culminate an endless supply of regret.

Rey was from a different time, a different era. A relic, really. Something that didn't belong in the modern world.

Most of her youth had been spent on the outskirts of London on the Standen Estate, a more than modest country home that belonged to her family. The house had been beautifully constructed in the Wealden vernacular style with sandstone quarried from the land and locally made bricks and tiles, its layout holding enough rooms to accommodate a big family. The inside was poshly decorated with Morris carpets, fine fabrics and wallpapers, accented with furniture that was fashionably modern for the times. The flush gardens wrapped around the house, and there was even a glass-enclosed greenhouse attached to the kitchen, allowing the staff to grow their own herbs and spices at their leisure.

Rey had loved that house.

It was now a museum. That's what the Internet had told her when she had searched for it. She hadn't gone back to it since she left to be married in the States. She hadn't been back to Europe at all, actually.

America was where Ben was from, and America was where she stayed... for him. Though long dead, this country helped her feel closer to him. Nostalgia and all that. Especially here in New York.

In her tiny two bedroom apartment, Rey let her head fall back against her headboard, thinking of a time when things were simple and innocent. Among it all, she thought of _him_….

**East Grinstead, West Sussex, 1906, Spring**

Lorraine, daughter and only child of Sir Benjamin and Lady Satine Kenobi, preferred to be outside rather than confined indoors. A wildling, her father would say in jest. A free spirit, her mother would affectionately call her. And that spirit fought against being tied down and confined, yearning to explore and to learn and thrive.

She loved wandering the gardens, running through the neatly trimmed grass and trekking through the forests that lined the estate. With her own drawn treasure maps, she pretended to be on the hunt for the Holy Grail, battling pirates along the way with her wooden sword, always coming out the other end triumphant.

Today was not a day for games, however. Something was amiss in her house, but being a child, she was shooed away from all adult discussions.

She was eleven, but she was a big eleven. Still, she was not allowed to partake in whatever business was being discussed in her father's study.

Under the gloomy sky and thick forewarning clouds, Lorraine sat on her favorite swing, tethered to her favorite bur-oak tree.

Her mind went through the things her father had been teaching her about engineering, the arithmetic involved and the art of ingenuity. She was curious about this thing called the automobile, her father's latest fixation. The townsfolk had dubbed it the 'horseless carriage', and it was supposed to make all their lives so much easier.

But Lorraine's life wasn't hard. Sure, she didn't have many friends, and her sociability could be–

Yelling came from the house. Her eyes darted from one window to the next, as if expecting to see something. But all the blinds were drawn, not a silhouette in sight.

She couldn't tell what had been shouted, but she knew it was neither of her parent's doing. It must have been one of the Americans. The voice had a deeper timbre than her father's.

Lorraine recalled being by her mother's side when the guests had arrived earlier that day. She'd been indignant over being pulled away from her attempt at creating an electrical circuit with the wires and small battery her father had given her.

The man and woman who entered the household were of her parent's age, with a kind smile drawn across their cheeks as they offered out societies usual pleasantries.

Behind the pair had stood their son, a tall, lanky boy with raven black hair touching his shoulders. His nose was too long for his face, his lips too plush for his narrow chin, and his eyes told the tale of disinterest for his surroundings. He was odd to look at, Lorraine thought… but not uncomely.

Lady Solo – _No. They don't have those titles in America,_ she reminded herself. Mrs. Solo brought the boy forward with a tug on his arm, much to his dismay. "This is our son, Benjamin."

_Father's name_, Lorraine thought to herself. But she shouldn't have been surprised. That particular name wasn't uncommon.

"My, you've grown so much since we last saw you," Lady Kenobi exclaimed. Lorraine eyed her mother. She didn't know her parents knew these people on a more personal level. "How old was he then? Ten?"

"Six," Mr. Solo corrected with a smile, placing his hand on Benjamin's shoulder. His son ground his teeth, protruding his temples. "He just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago."

"He's always been quite tall for his age, hasn't he." Lorraine's father looked at Benjamin with more precision. She could tell the son did not like the attention. "He's even taller than you, Han."

"But with only a fraction of my charm."

The adults laughed. Benjamin remained stoic, but annoyed. Lorraine watched him closely. There was something about him that held her interest.

When the laughter died down, Mr. Solo gave Benjamin a nudge, whispering something about being polite. Their son sighed and held out his hand, giving her parents a half-hearted handshake. Lorraine preferred a simple bow or a kiss atop her hand as a form of greeting, something proper and more befitting of her higher station. A handshake was… well, sloppy in appearance.

She waited her turn, but it never came. Benjamin completely ignored her. She might be used to such uncouth treatment at school, but in her house, she would not stand for it.

"What about me?" Lorraine piped up. All eyes turned to her. "Do I not get an acknowledgment?"

Benjamin made no answer. Rather, he looked put-out by her question.

Mr. Solo chuckled. "Your daughter is a demanding little nine year old."

"I'm eleven."

"My apologies, ma'am."

"Lady," Lorraine corrected him again.

Han pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a smile. He lowered his head slightly and said, "M'lady."

The proper response would have been for her to curtsy, but she stuck out her hand instead, wanting to show these people that she wasn't uncultured. Mr. Solo's brows shot up in surprise before he took her palm, his calloused fingers scratching against her skin. His grip was soft as he gave her hand a short-lived shake.

Then Lorraine stuck her palm out to Benjamin. He gave her a scowl, but begrudgingly took her hand in his.

There was a shock that shot up Lorraine's arm when their skin made contact. It was similar to the time a couple weeks ago when her father showed her a current of electricity between two metal rods. Too enthralled with curiosity, she had touched it. But touching Benjamin had a warmth to it that the electricity did not. It pooled in her chest, quickening her heart. She felt his grip tighten, his eyes focusing on her with a hint of fear and intrigue.

Lorraine pulled her hand away sharply. Benjamin took a step back, running the same hand through his hair. The adults gave each other knowing looks. If the butler hadn't walked in to proclaim that lunch was ready to be served, Lorraine would have demanded what kind of secrets everyone was harboring between them.

One quick look at Benjamin before being ushered to the dining room confirmed that he was suspicious of the adults as well.

Lunch was filled with laughter and stories, none of which Benjamin or Lorraine contributed to. The two of them kept trying to look at the other without notice, but more often than not, their eyes would meet, both glancing away hastily. But where there once was distrust in the way he gazed at her, there was now something else. Something Rey didn't understand.

And then there was her little orange kitten, BB. The fluffy fur ball was only four months old, but it kept circling Benjamin's chair and attempting to play with his shoes. She caught him trying to shoo the cat away a few times before giving up, letting the kitten sit in his lap and sleep through the remainder of afternoon meal.

Odd.

The cat didn't like anyone that wasn't Lorraine. It hissed at her father, and had even swiped its claws at her mother when she had tried picking it up from one of the rugs. Her parents insisted on getting rid of the 'hell-raiser', but Lorraine had refused to let him go.

So BB's behavior towards Benjamin was… perplexing. Especially since Benjamin seemed to be indifferent toward the animal.

When lunch was over, the adults and Benjamin congregated into her father's study, leaving her alone to do as she pleased. BB scurried off to prowl for the house mice. Lorraine completed the wire circuit with the battery from earlier, practiced scales on her cello, and finished all of her homework. Then, she was faced with the problem of boredom.

Which was how she found herself outside, lounging in one of the twin swings that hung from a thick branch. Her legs lazily swung back and forth, barely giving her any momentum, but offering just enough movement for comfort.

No more yelling came from the house.

After a while of sitting there alone, she heard someone walk up beside her, their steps rustling the grass. She glanced skyward. Benjamin was looming over her, his face devoid of any obvious emotion.

"It looks like it's about to rain," he told her, his voice deep enough to vibrate her bones. She realized this was the first time she'd heard him speak. His voice… wasn't unpleasant. "Maybe you should come inside."

She shrugged while still holding onto the ropes. "It always looks like it's about to rain here." Lorraine's gaze went back to scanning the countryside. Benjamin stood there for a moment, as if debating over what he should do. He took up residence in the swing beside her, the wooden slab creaking under his weight.

"Did you know our parents knew each other before today?" Lorraine probed carefully, trying to fill the void of silence.

He shook his head. "No. I just thought this was an investment opportunity for them. You?"

"I didn't know, either. I wonder why they didn't tell us."

"They didn't tell us a lot of things," Benjamin grumbled resentfully.

Lorraine glanced at him, waiting for additional information to accompany that statement. A breeze swept across the field, tossing Benjamin's hair in all different directions, allowing her a glimpse at his fanned ears.

"Wow," she said with fascination, leaning closer for a better look. "Your ears are huge. Have they always been that big?"

He tamed his renegade tresses quickly, his eyes glaring at her with sharp contempt. "What kind of name is Lorraine?"

The sudden verbal attack threw her off for a moment. "An elegant one," she muttered, trying to find her center, refusing to fold under his intimidation.

"It is?" he countered. "It sounds like something better suited for a maid."

Lorraine straightened her posture, her voice rising with each passing word. "Are you insulting me?"

She noticed a crack in his hard expression. "No. It just doesn't fit you."

"I beg your pardon?"

His face softened further. "I didn't mean to affront you." Oh, but she was sure he had. He glanced down to the grass, his tone turning gentle. "Lorraine is a lovely name… I just… it doesn't seem to suit you."

She scoffed and did her best to sound older than her age. "Are you insinuating I'm not refined?"

He shook his head, eyes widening. "No, I'm not–"

"And what name, pray tell, would 'suit' me?"

Mouth floundering open, he stuttered, "I – I don't know. Just forget I said anything."

Lorraine rolled her eyes dramatically. "That seems unlikely, seeing how you lack manners."

Benjamin tensed and spoke through gritted teeth. "Maybe if you hadn't made fun of my ears, I wouldn't have been so discourteous toward you."

Lorraine slid off the swing, hands on her hips as she stood in front of him. "So you admit you were being rather rude?"

"You were rude first."

"So that gives you the right to snub me?"

He pinched his lips together, as if in an effort to stop himself from saying another word. When he stood, he absolutely towered over her, eyes dark with disdain. He left her there, walking back in the direction of the house. He didn't go inside. He veered off to the garden, disappearing among the thick foliage and trees.

Lorraine expected to feel triumphant in making the man leave.

She didn't.

Instead, her thoughts were focused on how hurt he looked when she pointed out his ears. That hurt was there because of her. And Lorraine was not a stranger when it came to harsh words. The boys and girls at school made fun of her higher intellect and odd interests like it was their daily duty to do so. Their one true calling in life.

Lorraine sighed and made her way over to the gardens. She found Benjamin sitting beneath the shade of an old willow tree, back resting against the trunk, eyes zeroing in on her the second she came into view.

She came to a stop once she was in talking distance. His gaze shifted to the house.

"I apologize…" Lorraine started to say, "for pointing out your ears. I meant no offense." He didn't respond. Didn't move. Lorraine sat down in the grass, skirts fanning around her as she crossed her legs. "Do… do people point them out to you often?"

It took him a long moment to speak. "Not since I grew my hair out to cover them." He regarded her steadily, the lines in his face softening. "I'm sorry for saying those things about your name."

Lorraine nodded in acceptance. "Is my name really that horrible?"

"No," he immediately said. "It's very pretty."

"But you don't think it fits me?"

"Not because you aren't lovely. It's just… hard to explain." Lorraine observed as Benjamin became employed in picking at the grass, twisting and pulling it into smaller bits, making a mound out of the casualties from his unsettled hands.

"Do you know what our parents are discussing right now?" he asked. Lorraine deigned not to make a reply on something she did not know. Instead, she shrugged. "They're talking about our future."

"Our future? Like the future of our families as it pertains to business?"

"No. You and I. Our future." Lorraine stared at him, not knowing what he meant. "They want us to get married," Benjamin clarified.

Lorraine wished to say something sensible, but shock had overtaken her. "Married? But... I'm eleven!"

Benjamin laughed – actually _laughed_ at her. It was hard to take offense to it, though. The deep tonality of his amusement was nice against Lorraine's ears. "Not right now. In the future."

Oh.

"When in the future?" she asked.

"When you turn sixteen." It was Lorraine's turn to look away, and for Benjamin to watch her. "How does that make you feel?"

She was quite disconcerted, her face becoming hot. Though she knew one day she would marry, she could not imagine it. Let alone marrying this man. "I… I'm not sure. I do want to get married one day. But so soon?"

"Soon? It wouldn't happen for another five years."

"That seems soon to me."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "I forget, time goes by faster when you're younger."

Odd statement. "Time moves the same for everyone, no matter the age."

"Technically, that is correct." Benjamin didn't elaborate any further. "Do you not want me for a husband?"

Lorraine puckered her lips in thought. "Well… your countenance wasn't very pleasant in the beginning. But it is improving."

He chuckled, having taken her critique of him lightheartedly. "I usually don't make a good first impression with people. And I was so mad at my parents for dragging me over here and pulling me away from my studies just to meet a family my father wants to do business with. I'm sorry for not being in the best mood for company."

Indeed, his manners were getting better the longer they spoke. And if her parents had made her travel across the Atlantic to visit a family she didn't know, Lorraine concluded she would be aggravated as well.

A light sprinkle came from the sky above, the soft patter of raindrops sounding off from the leaves. But with the tree providing such a large canopy overhead, no moisture got through.

"What are you studying?" Lorraine asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She might as well get to know the man who would be her future spouse.

"Law."

"You want to be a barrister?"

"We call them attorneys, but yes, that is the goal." His expression soured. "My father thinks it's a respectable position."

"Do you not agree?"

He shrugged, lips pressing together. "It is respectable, yes. But… it's not what I want to do."

"What would you rather do?"

Benjamin rounded his jaw as he sat back, folding his arms and forgetting about the grass. "Theatre."

Lorraine's eyebrows rose so high, they were probably in her hairline. "Like playing a character on the stage?" Benjamin nodded, bracing himself for her reaction. "My mother took me to see Little Red Riding Hood last spring. My focus was more on the orchestra, I admit, but the show was absolutely magical. I would love to see another."

Benjamin tilted his head. "And here I thought you'd make fun of me."

"For wanting to be a thespian? It looks like fun." Truly, it did. "You should do it," she encouraged sincerely.

"Not much money in stage work, I'm afraid."

Her face lost all excitement.

Tersely, his eyes flickered to the house behind her. "If… if things work out between our families and if you are fine with the arrangement they are making for us… I could take you to a play whenever I come out to visit. Your father might permit it as long as we bring a chaperone."

It was hard for him to look at her as he said that. His facial mannerisms were interesting when nervous, the bottom of his left eye still finding a way to twitch even though his brows were drawn in tight.

And his eyes… so much were hidden in those ember orbs.

"I'd like that," Rey agreed.

Benjamin cleared his throat and ran a quick hand through his tousled hair. "But, anyway, studying law isn't as bad as I thought it would be. There are things I enjoy about it. Like helping people who do not have the education to do so. It can be fulfilling work, as long as you don't become eaten up with pride."

Lorraine listened in silence, but was not convinced that his heart was truly content. His eyes told too much. Even his body language was telling.

"I heard a joke about barristers once when my mother and I were out shopping," Lorraine said, finding herself moved to see him smile. "Want to hear it?"

"Sure."

"How can you tell when a barrister is lying?" Benjamin gave it some thought, then shook his head. "His lips are moving."

There was a beat before Benjamin dissolved into a fit of laughter, covering his mouth with his hand. "That's disturbingly accurate, actually." His glum temperament was replaced with a uniform manner of cheerfulness. Even after the laughter died away, there was an echo of a smile on his lips that Lorraine appreciated.

"When did they tell you about our impending marriage?" Lorraine asked.

Benjamin rubbed at his mouth with the tips of his fingers. "While we were in your father's study."

Ah. "Hence the yelling."

His brows rose. "You heard that?" Lorraine nodded. Benjamin sighed like it was a reflex. "I don't like when my parents meddle with my life."

"Especially now that you're an adult," Lorraine stated more than questioned.

"Especially now."

Lorraine looked to the house. The curtains in the window on the second floor rippled, and she could've sworn she'd seen someone standing there. "I think I'm too young to be thinking about all this marriage stuff."

"Then don't think about it till you're older. Enjoy the childhood you have left; you only get one."

Her gaze swung back to him. "But you're no longer a child. Won't your thoughts be frequenting the subject?"

"Yes."

"So you'll be thinking about me, then?"

He blinked, lips parting. "Lorraine, you don't have to marry me when you're older if you don't want to. You know that, right?"

_But who would take me to the theatre?_ she almost found herself saying.

"You think I should defy my parents?" she asked instead.

"Well… I, uh…"

"I can't challenge their wishes. As their daughter, it's disrespectful. So when I come of age, I'll marry you."

She thought he would've been happy with her accepting the arrangement. But his eyes showed a sadness that confused her. "Because they are asking it of you?"

"Of course."

The chuckle through his nose was devoid of mirth. "I don't think you understand what you're agreeing to. And I don't want your parents to be the reason why you marry me."

"What other reason is there?"

Benjamin said nothing for a moment. He adjusted his posture with unease and glanced at the house, then around at the garden. As if to make sure no one was nearby to listen. "'The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart,'" he said softly. Almost sweetly. "I read that in Helen Keller's book on the journey over here."

"Helen Keller?"

"An American woman who lost her sight and hearing at the age of two. But she overcame those disabilities and learned how to communicate and learn. Somehow, despite it all, she understands the world better than most."

Lorraine frowned. "Feel things with the heart…. Like affection?"

"Love," Benjamin elucidated on an exhale. "I'm sure she meant it to regard all types of things, but when I read it, I first thought of the love a man could have for a woman."

"I was told such a feeling came after marriage."

"People say that, but for some, it never manifests at all."

"What do those people do, then?"

"They're unhappy and stuck in a life they didn't want." Benjamin bowed his head. "I don't want that for you."

"Are you saying you could never love me?"

"I'm saying you probably could never love me." He paused, waiting for her to say something in response to his assumption. But she didn't know what to say. "Do you understand what love is between a man and a woman?"

It was tempting to give off an air of understanding, but she found herself not wanting to lie to him. "No. Not really. Do you?"

"No. I've never felt it for someone else. I've only ever read about it."

They both sat there, mulling over the conversation at hand. There was a distant rumbling of thunder.

Benjamin's gaze went to the sky, searching among the foreboding clouds. "We should get inside before it starts pouring." They stood at the same time, not yet moving toward shelter. At such a close proximity, Lorraine's neck almost seized from gazing up at him. "But I want you to promise me that you'll give this proposition some serious thought before agreeing to it. Can you do that, Rey?"

"Rey?"

He cocked his head to the side, realizing what he just said. "Are you alright with me giving you a nickname?"

She felt strange as she heard the new moniker, but not because she didn't like it. More because it felt so… right. "It's agreeable. It's nothing like the ones the other kids at school have given me."

Benjamin's stare tightened. "What do they call you?"

"Gummy, horse-teeth, spoiled Lorraine," she touted off without missing a beat. "Names like that."

At feeling the first heavy rain drop, they walked side-by-side back to the house. It would've been polite to offer Lorraine his arm, but Benjamin clasped his hands behind his back instead.

"Do any of them ever hurt you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They pull on my braids sometimes. One of the boys likes to flick my nose whenever I'm reading."

His lips thinned, jaw tightened. "Do you have school tomorrow?" He looked down at her. She looked up and nodded. "I would very much like to see where you study. Is it alright if I accompany you? I'll stay in the background. You and the other students won't even know I'm there."

There was sincerity in the way he spoke, but his face… there was anger hidden there. Was it anger over how the other students treated her? If he came, just for one day, would her peers leave her alone?

"If mother allows it, then I don't see why you couldn't."

He smiled, placated by her answer. Lorraine silently prayed her mother would let him come with her tomorrow.

Once inside, Lorraine wiped her shoes against the entryway rug, wiping off any excess dirt. Benjamin followed her example. "I feel like if you call me Rey, I should call you something, too," she told him.

He grabbed a small utility towel hanging by the door. "How about Ben?"

"Do your parents call you that?"

"No." He knelt down and began wiping away the specks of mud atop her leather shoes. The kind gesture was unexpected. "Just close friends."

"Then Ben it is."

He stood in front of her, switching the rag to his left hand as he held out his right for her to take. "It's nice to meet you, Rey."

The second she touched him, all sound disappeared, the air crackling with an energy Lorraine had never felt before. It was more shocking touching him this time than it had been before. Heat transferred from his palm, up her arm, and dispersed throughout her whole body. Both of them were caught in the moment, eyes steadily gazing at the other.

Lorraine steeled herself to try to explain what was happening. Nothing logical came to mind. No amount of her education could describe this pull she had towards him.

There was no physical endurance needed to stand there, but regardless, she felt as if she couldn't catch her breath. "It's nice to meet you, too, Ben."

Lorraine found that she didn't quite detest Ben as she had before. In fact, she no longer detested him at all.

**A/N**

**Next chapter we get to see what Ben has been up to! This story will be shown through both Rey and Ben's points-of-views. Next chapter will be dominantly about Ben. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who are taking a chance and reading the story! **

**Bendemption: Thanks for thinking it's a promising beginning. Hope you like what's to come! Feathers: I'm glad you love it! More is on the way!**

**Just some notes to get out of the way before you start reading:**

**1\. ****I took a lot of inspiration for Ben's character and life from Adam Driver and the characters he has played. Ben is like a mish-mash of all of them. He swears a lot, so get ready for that!**

**2\. While this story does have smut, it is also rated mature for graphic violence, bad language, and stories you might find disturbing and make you uncomfortable. This fic is gonna get dark at times. If you've read my other fic, The Space Between Stars, then you know what you're in for. But there will always be light at the end of the tunnel! Promise!**

**3\. Ben served in the military as a Marine, so he is very protective of people who have also served and has respect for the military for the stability it gave him. He enjoyed being a Marine, he loved it. But I will not be writing about whether he believed the war in Iraq was justified or bad or any of that. I'm not writing this story to push a narrative or to preach to anyone. I also ask you not do that in the comments.**

**4\. I don't know much about the military, nor about lawyers. I do a lot of research, but I can still get stuff wrong. So if there are discrepancies, you can always private message me or just move on. This story ain't gonna be perfect!**

**5\. This chapter is a huge information dump, so if you find it boring, I do apologize. But it had to be done. For you guys to understand the story, I needed to explain some things straightaway.**

**Okay, now onto the chapter!**

Chapter Two: Of Flesh and Shadow

"I still remember my first time."

The young man – Craig or Carl or something with a C – kept wiping his hands on his jeans. Up and down, up and down. From an initial assessment, it was easy to think him homeless: unkempt blonde hair, dirt on his face, loose clothes tattered and worn.

He continued, those sweaty hands rubbing at his nose. "We were moving through a village, had intel that al-Qaeda was there. By the looks of it, most of it was deserted, had been for a while. But I was going through one of the small houses and this guy was just suddenly there. I shot him in the chest, didn't even wait to see if he had a weapon. He did, though. A kukri knife in his right hand." The guy scratched the back of his neck, knee bouncing up and down. "Yeah… not much of a war story. Never any really good ones like in the movies. They're shit, ya know? A guy was there, boom, dead. I was so scared by what I'd done I didn't fire my weapon the rest of the day. I thought, well, that's it. You kill someone and you're not you anymore. But that was a lie. I'd been that person for a long time and just didn't know it."

The young man went silent for a moment.

Between 6th and 7th street in the East Village of Manhattan, a meeting was being held in The Collegiate Church's basement late in the evening. The air was cooler down there, a bit mildewy. The cement block walls had been whitewashed in cream a few decades ago, the color peeling and leaving residue on the low-napped brown carpet, the kind of off putting color you'd find throughout many houses in the seventies.

Chairs formed a tight circle in the middle of the room, most of the twenty or so seats filled with men and women aging anywhere from early twenties to being eligible for social security checks. Long tube fluorescent lights hung from the low ceiling, its job to give everyone a headache by the end of the meeting. The loud buzz from the electrical current certainly upped the effectiveness.

And Ben had already bumped his head on those annoying fucking rods. Twice.

He glanced around, looking through the dark lenses of his Ray Bans. Most people were looking down at the floor or staring intensely at their laps. Everyone was quiet, but that was how these get togethers went – you listened and didn't judge. If you couldn't do those two basic things, you got the fuck out. Seeing how everyone in the room had served in the military in some capacity, there was no shortage of person's who wouldn't gladly boot a rude piece of shit out to the curb.

"I should think about that moment more often, but I don't," the guy added, wiping at his nose again, hand shaking. "I mean, I used to think about it all the time, after…. But instead, I think about when I was ten and our dog just had a litter of puppies. We had enough animals on the farm, and my old man couldn't find anyone to take them. Even for free. So he had me dig a hole, put the puppies in there, and kill them. I asked for the gun, but he told me, "You need to grow up, stop whining and crying all the time. Life is hard, no one's gonna to be there to make it easy for ya."" The guy paused. "He gave me a shovel, told me to bash their heads in."

"Did you?" a voice in the crowd asked. A few people shushed. You weren't supposed to ask questions.

But Carl/Craig nodded in the affirmative. "I think about those puppies every day. The squeals they made as I…. And the mother, trying to get out of her kennel. But I don't think about the actual people I've killed. Something must be wrong with me. Right? I mean, people are people, while animals are just animals." The guy cleared his throat. "So yeah, I got into H after I came back." Ben winced on the inside. Towards the end of his spiral, he'd gotten into heroin. "Did it for years. It wasn't until I went to jail twice that I could admit I had a problem. I've been sober for five weeks, but… it's hard, ya know? Goddamn shakes. And finding a job is impossible." The guy chuckled, but it was without mirth. "I went into the military thinking it would help me toughen up, like my dad wanted. Maybe even help me forget him. But it didn't. The military didn't help me forget all the shit I took from him. And now without the high… it's just hard. Living. Figuring out life."

Craig/Carl went quiet.

Ben had never attended a meeting like this before, a veterans support group. Back in LA, he went to AA/HA almost every night. He had every intention of doing the same here. But when he made the move to New York last week, he came across this meeting in an Internet search and figured he'd give it a try. He'd been a Marine, could maybe relate to some of the things that were talked about. Like the guy's craving for just one more hit. Or how scared he'd been after killing someone for the first time. Ben had felt the same, too… when he killed that child murderer at the age of fourteen.

May he not rest peacefully in Hell.

"Hi, my name is Steve," a guy three seats over from Ben said. Greetings were given all around, then the room waited for Steve to continue. "I guess I came tonight because I have nowhere else to go. But I'd rather be here than drinking." There was a beat of silence. Yeah… alcohol was Ben's main weakness. "I was in the Air Force…."

And that was pretty much how the night went. Person after person speaking up and talking about their problems. Ben listened, but didn't share. Some of them had addictions; some of them just struggled with personal demons.

Ben dealt with both. Though, a small portion of his problems derived from military service, while the majority came from his everyday life. Still, it was comforting to listen to those who were brave enough to share.

When it was 21:56, the woman who'd been moderating stood up. The rest of them did the same. "And now for a short prayer."

Ben was surprised when those next to him grabbed his hands. Good thing he kept his gloves on throughout the meeting. Last thing he needed was to have an episode in front of all these people. It didn't always happen when he touched someone skin-to-skin, but he didn't particularly like seeing flashes of a person's impending death. On two separate occasions, it had caused him to have a seizure.

When it had first started, he did try to tell the person what he'd seen – stay away from that boat or go have a check-up with your doctor because hey, you're gonna die soon – but all that did was get him labeled as someone with a few screws loose.

Yeah…. He didn't do that anymore. Ben made it a personal rule to keep his mouth shut. Saying something never changed the outcome. No one had ever listened to him. They all ended up dying closely related to the way he'd seen. The obituary section of the local newspaper helped to confirm as much.

Then there was the reason why he wore dark tinted sunglasses on the daily. At 26, he started noticing these black, inky clouds looming over random strangers. It was thicker than a shadow, dripping black goop that would vanish before hitting the ground. Those people, Ben learned, were the type you stayed away from.

Ben had interacted with murderers, rapists, and even pedophiles during his short stint in criminal law. Rarely did he see the dark substance attached to any of them. He figured even those with the worst sins had a sliver of guilt embedded in their soul.

No... it was the ones who were unable to feel remorse, who had no conscience, who were evil by biblical standards and capable of monstrous acts that the darkness attached itself to.

The shades made it so Ben didn't _see _any of that. He didn't want to.

While everyone closed their eyes and bowed their heads, Ben looked to the floor, waiting for the prayer to be over. He was the first one out after the amen.

It wasn't that he didn't believe in God or anything. After all the weird supernatural shit he could do, there had to be someone up there toying with his life. It was just he didn't think God believed in him… which was why he was cursed.

As the cool spring air hit him, he took a long drag of it into his lungs. In his laid-back ensemble of dark jeans, a thin black hoodie and black Air Jordan sneakers, he waited on the sidewalk as the rest of the group funneled out.

"_You wanna help that kid, don't you?_" Kylo asked, the question going through Ben's mind.

Ben's gaze went to the cement. With the dim glow of the church's outside light, he could see the outline of his shadow. Of Kylo. While the entity held no facial features, Ben glared at where the eyes would be if Kylo had any.

Talk about demons – that piece of shit fit the bill perfectly.

Ben glanced up the church steps when he heard Carl/Craig's voice saying goodnight to one of the other attendees.

"Hey," Ben called out, catching the guy's attention when he got on the sidewalk.

Carl/Craig gave Ben a quick once over. "You new here? I haven't seen you at these meetings before."

"Moved to New York last week."

"Where from?"

"LA."

"Quite the change. Don't know why you'd give up the sunshine and beach for"– Carl/Craig waved his hands around in an unimpressed motion– "this."

Ben thought of that anonymous letter, remembered reading how the person knew he was a murderer and would expose him if he didn't leave Los Angeles immediately. He'd only ever killed two people in cold blood: that child serial killer he saved Rose from when he was younger, and the dad who killed his four-year-old daughter when Ben had worked in criminal court. The sender had been aware of both instances.

Ben couldn't figure out how.

"It was needed," Ben said nonchalantly, though his insides churned. "And I attended college here when I was younger. I prefer New York weather over sunshine and the beach, anyway."

The guy snorted. "To each their own, I guess. What's your name?"

Ben held out a gloved hand. "Ben Solo."

"Cooper Camden."

Kylo laughed. "_You suck with names, you know that?"_

Ben ignored him.

Ben made sure he didn't crush Cooper's hand, trying to make it a socially acceptable handshake. Ben's strength was higher than average. Like, _really_ high. With every passing year it got worse, to the point where he was tired of breaking shit all the time

Cooper eyed the black leather gloves covering Ben's skin. "You get cold easily or something?"

"Germ aversion."

"And the whole I-wear-my-sunglasses-at-night thing?"

"Extreme light sensitivity."

"_You've become really good at lying,_" Kylo said. Truly, Ben had. It wasn't his first time with these rounds of questions.

Cooper nodded, then shrugged. "Well, we all got our stuff."

"Yeah…." Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. "So. I was, uh… I heard what you said in there. I wanted you to know that I can relate. And if you need help with anything–"

Cooper went straight to being offended. "Do I look like a fucking charity case to you? Cause I don't come to these meetings looking for a handout. I ain't like that."

The guy walked away.

Ben hurried after him. "Hey, man, I fucking get it. I'm a Marine, too." At that, Cooper stopped. Ben got in front of him, but didn't get too close. He would prefer not to get punched in the face. "There's a pride that goes along with that, and it makes us terrible at asking for help. I got into drugs and alcohol a couple years after I got out, ruined my life and went to court appointed rehab for it. But I had outside help and it made a huge difference."

"Where'd ya serve?"

"I was sent to Iraq. 1/1 Weapons Company."

"No shit. Same. I was a mortar man."

"CAAT platoon, gunner."

Cooper nodded, warming up to Ben's presence. "When were you at Camp Pendleton?"

"I joined right after September 11th. I was 17, but turning 18 in November."

"Ah. You're a few years older than me, then. I didn't start my service till 2004. How many tours?"

"One. I was medically discharged. Got ambushed and…" Ben's throat tightened. He didn't like talking about what had happened. "My back and shoulder hasn't been the same since. But that's war for you."

"Hoorah," Cooper said under his breath.

Ben got out his wallet, grabbing one of his business cards. "Just… if you need anything, you can call or text me on my cell. No matter the time."

Cooper considered the card, like he was fighting an inner battle on whether to take it or not. In the end, he did. "A lawyer," Cooper said as he read the small print. "Must be nice to have a fancy job."

"It wouldn't have happened without that help I was telling you about."

"Did you get your degree at NYU? I had a cousin who did law school there."

"No, I went to Yale."

"I thought you said you went to college here?"

"I did for a bit, after the military." Ben didn't want to get into specifics. That part of his life was when everything went to shit. "Then I went to Yale."

Cooper glanced at the card. "Thanks, man. You a sponsor or something? Cause I already have one."

"No. Fuck, I wouldn't be good at that type of thing."

"You seem to be doing a fine job talking to me." Ben didn't know how to respond to the compliment. Cooper nodded with his chin toward the church. "You gonna keep coming to these meetings?"

"Couple times a week, at least. I usually go to an AA group near where I live. But I think I'll come by Thursday night."

"Cool." Cooper pocketed Ben's card. "Well, See ya then."

Ben watched him amble down the sidewalk, giving Cooper a head start since that was the way he needed to go. No need to make the encounter more awkward by trying to figure out if he should walk faster or slower than the guy.

"_You have such a soft spot for the lost and downtrodden," _Kylo observed._ "Especially if they're an ex-Marine._"

"_Cooper's a Marine, not an ex-Marine. That isn't a thing, so don't fucking say that."_

"_Touchy, touchy_."

Ben glanced across the street–

His heart froze. For a second, he thought he saw the flurry of thick skirts going around the corner, long brown hair flowing behind a hurried silhouette.

Ben closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. Was that just his imagination? Or were his meds no longer working?

"_Aren't you going to go after her?_" Kylo asked.

"_No."_

"_Pussy. You never go after her._"

Ben suddenly straightened.

There was that flash of suspicion, that hard angry look forming on his face when he felt the distant touch of… malevolence. Followed, as it usually was, by his jaw tightening, muscles clenching.

He turned around, gazing up the church steps. Standing at the top was a red-haired man, tall and lean, his steely eyes looking directly at Ben. This guy hadn't been at the meeting.

Ben's body had this weird sensation of shifting even though he didn't move, like his bones were vibrating, his mind trying to grasp onto something… far away. A piece of information.

The guy lifted his hand, giving Ben a wave.

He didn't reciprocate. Instead, he pulled out a dum dum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth, holding eye contact with the stranger. It was tempting to go up to the redhead and demand what his deal was, but Ben avoided confrontation like that as if it were the plague. When he was younger, he hadn't. Now, he tried really hard not to be that person anymore.

And his sunglasses stayed staunchly in place.

He turned and walked down 7th street, heading toward the sixth local train at Astor Place. He supposed he could've just teleported home by disappearing through the shadows. Rose dubbed it 'night travel', even though he could do it during the day as long as he found a dark corner to slink into. But Manhattan had a lot of cameras, and you never knew who was watching in an alley.

Besides, public transportation helped him feel somewhat like a normal person.

He hadn't felt like a normal person in a very long time. A new ability seemed to emerge every few years or so, turning his life upside down as he tried to cope and control it.

Most of them were fucking inconveniences.

For two blocks, Ben could feel the guys eyes on him, like tiny little pins pricking across the skin on his neck. Then it was suddenly gone, replaced by the cool spring air.

Kylo stirred. "_You know him?_"

"_Nope," _Ben answered with his thoughts.

"_Is he a serial killer or something? You only get this feeling with really bad people."_

"_Like I said, I don't know him."_

"_Well, you better watch your back. I think he somehow knows you."_

God, the last thing Ben needed was for his life to get complicated while being in Manhattan. One more thing to add to his already insane existence might just cause him to have another psychotic break.

Ben swiped his metro card and went to lean against one of the tiled pillars, getting out another sucker and popping it into his mouth as he waited for his train back to the Upper East Side. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Rose.

**To Ben:**

_I have some free time if you want to swing by the club after your meeting. I still haven't seen you! We'd hang outside, of course. Or grab a bite to eat at a place nearby. _

**To Rose**:

_I'm pretty beat. Just want to go to bed, tbh. But sometime during the evening this week would work._

Ben heard a train approaching. It was the one he needed.

**To Ben:**

_I have rehearsals all this week but you could come by and visit me there. It's a playhouse in Brooklyn._

Ben glared at the phone. The train squealed as it slowed.

**To Rose:**

_Rose._

**To Ben:**

_Ben._

**To Rose:**

_I don't go to theatres. You know that._

**To Ben:**

_Not even to see me? Your bestest friend in the whole entire world? Who has always stood by you no matter what?_

The doors opened and Ben got on, easily able to find a spot on the bench with how late it was.

**To Rose:**

_Are you seriously trying to guilt me into going?_

**To Ben:**

_You've been busy all week and I've been stressed running the club while Paige is gone. Our schedules are just so conflicting right now. If we wait for a moment where both of us are free, months will have gone by. And I will guilt you into getting your ass down to the theatre if I have to. I have no shame._

"No, you don't," Ben muttered under his breath. The train jerked as it propelled forward.

**To Rose**:

_Fine, you annoying fucking mouse. Text me a time for tomorrow and an address and I'll be there. But no longer than twenty minutes._

Ben prayed he didn't regret agreeing to this. He hadn't been to an actual playhouse in years. Theatres represented his shattered dreams of becoming an actor and reminded him of the day he was kicked out of Julliard, ending in his arrest.

Ben back then was a mess and an asshole. Ben now was… pretty much the same thing, but in a different context and without the drugs and alcohol.

Man, did he sometimes miss the partying and the sex, the alcohol and the drugs.

Knowing he had an affinity toward addictive behavior, he had to find something to replace all that shit with. Give his hands and body something to do. Exercise only got him so far, and therapy only slightly muted some of the impulses.

"What do you enjoy?" his therapist had asked. "Something you look forward to, that makes you happy… even if it's small."

First thing to pop in his head? Lollipops, preferably dum dums. He loved those little fucking candies. Tasting them and crunching on them gave him a small rush of satisfaction. Not to the extent H had, of course, but it was enough. And with his mouth preoccupied, it helped curb his want for a cigarette. Gum was an alternative, but Ben couldn't deny his sweet tooth for too long.

He bit down on the mango-peach flavored sucker, grabbing for a third from his pocket. Mmm… raspberry-blueberry.

Ben's mouth watered in anticipation.

()()()()()

Groggily, Rey blinked and was met with the murky image of a water stained ceiling. Once she recognized the haziness for what it was, she bolted upright, her knitted green blanket and unread book falling away from her torso.

She didn't move, her eyes fixated on the pile of clothes at the end of her bed. Her consciousness took in none of it.

His face swirled in her mind, as if still holding onto the memories of when they first met.

_Ben._

When was the last time she'd slept? Two months ago, the night of Valentines Day, that ridiculous holiday that was invented to get consumers to buy chocolates and roses and sell the idea that love could conquer all.

Her and Finn had stayed in that night, watching a lineup of movies and shows Finn deemed Rey's Depression Medication. The label wasn't far off. Since medicine didn't work on her and alcohol had no effect, she had to find other means to help her not wallow in misery.

To Rey, Valentines Day was the second worst day of the year – the first being the anniversary of Ben's death.

On that day, she didn't watch anything, didn't go anywhere, didn't talk to anyone. On that day, she slept, because in her slumber, she always dreamed of him and the life they had made together. During those first few years of endless permanence, she had slept _a lot_, seeking his face behind the curtain of her eyelids.

Rey realized what she'd been doing was akin to torture, that she couldn't keep seeing him and live somewhat sanely.

Sleep was now a rarity.

There was a soft knock at her door, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Rey," Finn called out. "Is everything okay? You need to leave soon if you want to be on time for your new job."

Rey snatched her phone off of the side table. It was seven-thirty. She scrambled out of bed and rushed to the door, swinging it open and heading straight to the bathroom.

"Whoa," Finn said as he got out of her way. "Were you… were you actually sleeping?"

Rey didn't answer him.

She splashed water on her face and did a haphazard job at brushing her teeth, not like she needed to. No matter what, her mouth never soured. But she kept up the routine of using toothpaste because she loved the smell of mint on her breath.

Studying her reflection, Rey went through her minimal makeup routine: tinted brow gel, eyeliner with a small wing tip, mascara, and deep red lipstick. Her complexion was always even and never blotchy, which allowed her to forgo foundation altogether.

She ran her fingers through her hair, combing out her bed head. Her soft brown tresses held a permanent wave no flatiron could get rid of, her hair remaining just above her shoulders and never growing. The same went for her fingernails.

In every sense of the word, her body really was frozen in time.

Immortality had given her a permanent angelic appearance, garnering a lot of double takes whenever she was out in public. The regular population knew something was off with how perfectly beautiful she was, but the truth was just out of their reach: She wasn't one of them. Hadn't been for a while, now.

But her truth? The one she kept close to her chest?

She would rather have stayed dead than to have clawed her way out of a grave and be met with the reality that she could never die and join Ben in the afterlife – which, it turned out, was a very real place.

She discovered that when she met Finn back in 1926 while living in Chicago.

The pair had immediately recognized an energy in each other that was similar to their own. It hadn't been the first time Rey had seen someone like him. She had tried to talk to others, but they always disappeared whenever she got too close. Finn was the first of his kind not to vanish into thin air. In fact, he was the one who went up to her and introduced himself.

They bonded rather quickly after that. Once they trusted one another enough, she told him her story. In exchange, he divulged that he helped lost souls progress to the next phase of their lives. Most people who died moved on without needing help to get to the afterlife, the soul already knowing what to do after separating from the body. But every once in a while, those with unfinished business were able to will themselves to stay on the earthly plane. Some were even dangerous, twisted by their need for revenge, their rage allowing them to wreak havoc on the human world. Maybe even spark a haunting.

And that was where Finn came in, collecting wayward souls who didn't belong among mortals.

The official name for him was something in a language Rey had never heard before, a very old celestial dialect mortals had no knowledge of. A rough translation into the English language would be 'Emissary', but that was only really used in formal situations. The titles the Emissaries went by while on earth depended greatly on what the locals used – like Yamaraja in Hinduism, Ankou in Celtic folklore, or La Santa Muerte in Latin American mythology.

It was amusing to see Finn's disdain for the growing popularity of the name Grim Reaper in English culture – which was why Rey used it every chance she got.

It had been just the two of them for so long – traveling together, confiding in each other, laughing and crying – they were almost like a family.

Rey rushed back to her room just as her cat darted out from underneath the couch, frantically running between her feet and demanding her attention. With super sharp reflexes, she was able to dodge BB the 8th with deft steps, making it to her room with ease.

Finn called out to the little orange and white furball, beckoning it to come eat its food and behave. BB-8 hurried over to his bowl on the kitchen floor.

While BB-8 was close in appearance to the original BB, his personality more resembled that of BB-3 and BB-6: Needy, but shy; erratic, but scared easily; cuddly, but sometimes went days hiding from her and Finn, like he was trying to prove he was capable of being independent.

No matter what mannerisms came along with each orange cat, Rey would always go out and get another once the previous passed away. She didn't like to be too introspective when it came to her need of replacing BB, but she figured it had to do with losing her cantankerous, but lovable, feline friend the same day she lost Ben.

These cats filled a tiny sliver of the gaping hole that had formed in her heart.

Rey checked the time on her phone.

7:42.

She needed to be in the office at 8:30, but even if she left in the next five minutes, the subway was going to be packed, more than likely making her late.

Rey raided her closet, finding a black pencil skirt and white blouse. Where was her nude bra? Her breasts were small enough that she didn't need to wear one, but she'd never been one of those women who were comfortable showing off parts of their sexuality. Like, say, nipping out of a shirt, which would definitely happen if she went braless.

Even after a hundred years, it was hard to shake off how she was raised. And how she was raised was to always be a lady.

Rey dug through the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed, tossing most of them onto the floor.

"You doing okay?" Finn asked from the doorway.

Annoyed that he was still watching her, Rey curtly said, "I'm going to be late for my job, so no, I'm not doing that great."

"I meant are you doing okay after falling asleep? I know you dream of him every time you do."

Grasping the bra in her hand, Rey stilled. Finn and her have been friends for 94 years, but if there was one topic that was strictly off limits the majority of the time, it was Ben.

She took two deep breaths before glancing up at him. "There's only one day a year where it's acceptable to bring him up to me, and today is not that day. You know that."

Walking up to him, she slammed the door in Finn's face. She immediately felt bad for doing so, giving out a soft apology.

Finn dismissed her dramatics by saying, "It's okay."

Her shoulders slumped as she fought against the moisture accumulating in her eyes. She brought her left hand up, studying the gold band on her ring finger. As long as she could help it, that piece of jewelry never came off. The last time it had was when she worked at a factory making ammunition during World War II.

_Stop reminiscing_, she scolded herself. _No time!_

She shoved the memories back in the catacombs of her mind and made quick work of changing into her professional attire.

When she was buttoning the top part of her blouse and checking herself in the full-length mirror next to the dresser, she heard Finn's muffled voice through the door. "Rey… you've been falling asleep more and more lately, and I'm starting to worry about you."

Two times within the last year was hardly exorbitant. "I'm fine," Rey said. It didn't sound convincing, even to her.

"You don't seem fine."

"That's because I'm gonna be late!" she grumbled as she slipped on her four inch, pointed toe black leather heels. Immortality had given her an unremarkable sense of balance and invincibility, with the added perk of never feeling physical pain. Hence why she could live in heels if she wanted to: no blisters, no foot pain, and no permanent consequences to her lean frame.

"That's not the only reason," Finn countered. He must be feeling particularly brave today since he was risking the blowback that came with her anger. And if he was willing to put himself in her crosshairs, she knew he did it because he cared.

Dammit.

She grabbed her phone and swung open the door, startling Finn. "Okay, fine. I dreamed of him last night," Rey conceded reluctantly. "And I dreamed of him on Valentines Day, too. Happy?"

"Only if you are."

Rey stared at him flatly. "I'm never happy."

"And that's a problem."

Rey groaned and pushed past him, crossing the living room to get to her brown leather satchel on the kitchen counter. "I can't do this right now, Finn." She shoved her phone inside, making sure she had her laptop and other essentials for her job. "I need to get to work before I'm fired on my first day."

Finn snort-chuckled, which earned him a dagger-like glare. "Like you need this job." He leaned against the island, watching her go through her bag. "A secretary to some fancy schmancy lawyer at a marketing firm? The wage they're paying you is laughable."

"I'm not doing it for the money."

"Oh, I know. You've worked for NASA building rockets for the space program, and your investments over the last few decades have made you wealthy. But what about your pride?"

"I have none. And I can't go back to NASA yet. It's still too soon."

"Thirty-five years is too soon?"

She was missing her computer charger. Her eyes caught it still in the outlet between the couch and the stand holding her cello. The cello Ben had bought her when she was 13. "My old supervisor still works there," she said as she pulled the cord from the wall, rolling it up. "I can't take the chance he recognizes me and asks questions."

"You were going by Kira Johnson back then. And how good can the guy's memory be? Honestly. He should be a walking skeleton by now."

Rey placed the charger in her bag and zipped it closed, feeling an extra dose of sorrow thinking about how she had to give up NASA. "I can't risk it, Finn."

"You hate being a secretary. This is what, the twentieth time you've been one?"

Twenty-second, but she didn't correct him. She'd been a lot of things over the course of her unstoppable existence: secretary, house cleaner, nurse, barista, student at Harvard, aeronautical and aerospace engineer, waitress, pet walker, and on and on the list went.

Rey pegged Finn with a serious stare. "I don't need to like it. I do these jobs to give me something to do. Either that or I go insane."

Finn sighed, which Rey interpreted as him being done hounding her for the day. She checked the time on the antique clock next to the window in the living room. It was 7:58. Rey marched to the door, adjusting the satchel on her shoulder.

"What time are you going to be home?" Finn asked as he followed her.

"Around five-thirty."

With some manners still in place, Finn yanked open the door for her, putting in some extra effort due to the layers of paint causing the frame to stick. "I'll have dinner ready by the time you get back so we can leave for rehearsal at six."

Due to the frenzy of the morning, Rey almost forgot about the play they were participating in at the small community theatre in Brooklyn, cleverly named Curtain Call. It was a rendition of Agatha Christie's _And Then There Were None_, one of Rey's most favorite authors.

While Finn had a part in the play, Rey was not an actor. Not by a long shot. But she was able to fill an open spot for a cellist in the small orchestra, which made Finn happy. According to him, if she wasn't somehow involved in the play, then he couldn't be involved in it either. It had something to do with how Grim Reapers weren't allowed to interact with the human world.

Rey didn't see how her being at the playhouse made it okay for him to be there, but whatever. She didn't try to delve into it. Truthfully, she was enjoying the opportunity to play her cello in an orchestra. She didn't want to worry about the opportunity being taken from her if Finn were to get in trouble.

Nothing was going to happen. He wasn't going to get caught. But just to be safe, he really should stop flirting with Rose in between scenes. Rey didn't know how to bring that up to him. He was _way_ into her.

"Finn, neither of us needs to eat to survive," she reminded him as she stopped at the top of the stairs in the hallway. "We can forgo dinner for one night."

"I know it's impossible for you to get low blood sugar, but I swear Rey, you get hangry when you don't eat. You know that."

Rey narrowed her eyes. Finn knew her way too well. "Fine," she yielded. "Yorkshire tapas puddings, the ones I taught you to make."

Finn mocked offense. "Like I'd ever deviate from your recipe. Spiced chicken, with a tomato and saffron sauce, topped with toasted almonds – I got this."

Rey's frantic demeanor broke a little, a small smile slipping through her defenses. "You spoil me."

"Well, since you let me be on your checking account, the least I can do is cook for you."

Rey rolled her eyes and waved him goodbye.

With such strict rules that went along with Finn's job, he had no way of acquiring money. Rey basically supported him by allowing him to live with her and have access to her bank accounts. When she told him he could buy whatever he wanted, he took that quite literally. Finn's room was basically just a closet of clothes and shoes. Reapers were only given their token black suits to wear, but when he wasn't on the hunt for an elusive soul, Finn preferred to dress like a casual mortal.

And Rey found out quickly he had expensive taste. How he was more pretentious about fashion than her, Rey had no idea. But she didn't care what he bought with her money as long as he didn't drag her along on his current obsession of geocaching.

The moment her heels hit the tile on the first floor, she shot her arm into the air and caught a falling umbrella. Slowly, she craned her head up, scowling. Finn was leaning over the fourth story stairwell, gazing down at her with amusement.

"Just wanted to make sure you still got those reflexes," he called out to her. "And the Weather Channel said there's a chance of rain today."

Rey gave him a salute with the tip of the umbrella, cheeks dimpling. As she crossed the narrow corridor, she heard Finn yell, "Have a good day, peanut! Don't let those sexist men talk down to you!"

She chuckled and ventured out into the streets of New York.

With her apartment located on 30th and 4th, Rey lived right next to Korea town. She blended in with the rest of the commuters who were hurrying to get to the downtown subway line on 28th. It was packed, as expected. She squeezed into the small car, holding onto the railing above as bodies pressed into her.

Bodies pressed into her. She closed her eyes, trying not to focus on her need for personal space.

Rey hurried out of the car once it stopped at Canal St. and maneuvered herself through the throng of people as she jogged to the correct high-rise. With her security badge in hand, she was admitted into the lobby and took the elevator up to the 31st floor, her breath and heart rate not once spiking.

Which was Rey's new norm.

Throughout the years, Finn had put her through a series of tests to see exactly what she was capable of. She discovered that she never tired, never had hunger pains, always had a steady stream of energy, and her physical strength far exceeded that of the world's strongest man.

But while her body never reacted to physical exertion or hardship, it sure did respond to emotional changes. She still cried over heartbreak, her skin became sweaty when anxious, and her hands trembled when nervous.

So really, by all accounts, her mentality was her worst enemy.

The elevator dinged and opened. Darting down the carpeted hallways, she went straight for the Law Department, greeting the receptionist as she walked by. Rey was already accustomed to the overall layout of the floor from her orientation last week; she knew exactly which office she was assigned to.

When she walked into the room, she glanced around. There was a pair of grey couches that formed a little waiting area in front of her desk, a multitude of shelves lining the walls that held books, and a door behind her workstation that led to her boss' private office.

Rey exhaled, already making plans to somehow bring a touch of color to the bland workspace. Mitaka did say he wouldn't mind a woman's touch when it came to decorating.

She put her bag down on the desk and went straight for the Keurig situated across the room. Mitaka had been very nice and cordial when they met during her training, giving her clear instructions on how he liked to have things done. He hadn't said anything about having coffee ready by the time he got into the office at 8:45, but to play it safe, Rey made the man a steaming hot cup of joe. Just in case. She found out from the front receptionist he liked it with a splash of cream.

The door opened. She glanced behind her shoulder, seeing her boss striding in quickly, frazzled. He stopped when he noticed her, as if surprised by her presence. She glanced at the ticking clock by the door. He was a few minutes early.

"Rey. Good morning."

"Good morning, Mitaka," she said smoothly. The guy preferred to go by his surname, not Mister or Sir or Dopheld. Just Mitaka. "I was preparing some coffee if you'd like to have any."

"Oh, uh…" Mitaka placed his briefcase on the sofa, rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, that won't be necessary. There's been a slight change of plans."

A jolt went through her body as her heart skipped a beat. Did he know she was five minutes late? Was he really that much of a stickler when it comes to tardiness? "Am – am I being let go?"

"What? No! I just need to reassign you to one of our other attorneys. The head of our department, actually." Rey closed her eyes briefly in relief. She hated looking for jobs. "He's transferring from our west coast office and today's his first day. But the secretary we hired for him quit just this morning and I promised him that the transition would be smooth and easy. He, uh… made it quite clear he didn't like unwarranted stress."

Rey hesitated.

So far, Mitaka seemed to be a kind and polite person, both of which were rare qualities to find in a superior within this profession. She really would rather work for him than someone else. But he was gazing at her with such desperation, that she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"Well… I guess if it would help, I can–"

"Marvelous," he cut her off, taking what she was about to say as an agreement. He snatched up his briefcase and beckoned her to follow. "I'll show you to his office."

Rey left the coffee behind and reluctantly grabbed her satchel. He guided them to the end of the hallway and into a corner office, one that had big windows and offered a very agreeable view of Manhattan.

"The layout is similar to mine, but bigger," Mitaka pointed out. "And thank you so much for doing this. I've been panicking all morning…" Mitaka continued to ramble as Rey took in the space.

Black leather couches and a chrome coffee table were set up to the right, while her larger-than-needed desk was to the left. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with antique looking texts that held all the knowledge pertaining to American law. Or maybe they were fake and just decoration. Lots of lawyers did that.

The office was more sterile than Mitaka's, that was for sure. Felt colder, too. Would it really kill these people to add just a little bit of color? Nothing as radical as yellow, but maybe a hint of red or blue somewhere?

"I'll forward you the email his previous secretary sent me with how he likes his schedule to be handled and what he prefers to eat if you ever order in. Mr. Solo can be very particular about his diet –"

Her attention snapped to Mitaka. "Mr. Solo?"

"Oh, yes. His name is Benjamin Solo. Probably a good thing to know, since your his secretary," Mitaka joked.

His voice grew distant as Rey became lightheaded, not being able to take in much of what the man was saying to her. All she caught was that her new boss wouldn't be coming in until early afternoon, and that she should go over the notes from the email Mitaka was about to send her.

A cell phone went off. Mitaka's. He answered it, leaving her alone in the office as he hurried out the door.

On shaky legs, Rey sunk down to the sofa, becoming lost in her own thoughts and memories.

The odds of her boss having the same name and profession as her deceased husband were astronomically impossible. And yet….

_No._

It couldn't be anything but a coincidence. Ben was dead. She'd held his body in her own two arms, had seen his blood-drained face, had heard from the dank confines of her jail cell that his parents had buried him hastily on their estate.

Ben was gone.

Though, Rey never could find the grave. Leia had to have hidden it somewhere, maybe as a final 'Fuck you' to Rey for betraying her son. A move like that was right up that woman's alley. Not that Rey ever got to confront her about it. The Solo's had disappeared right after Ben's funeral… along with her parents. None of their friends or acquaintances remembered who they were, as if they never existed.

Everything forgotten.

Except for that one woman, that stranger waiting in Rey and Ben's empty home after Rey had dug herself out of the dirt. The short woman had saved some of her and Ben's belongings in a trunk, telling her that no moment should be forgotten – not the good, nor the bad. Then she vanished, blinking out of existence.

Rey never saw her again.

She searched through her bag and pulled out the wooden frame she bought from Target. Inside was a picture of her and Ben, taken on the day of her 18th birthday. Even though they'd been married over a year, that day was the day she truly started to fall in love with him.

Ben had wanted to commemorate the occasion with a picture. They went to a local studio on 5th Avenue, the photographer placing her in a chair. Hands in her lap, Ben stood behind her, a palm on her shoulder. Their smiles were faint, but their eyes showed how incandescently happy they'd been.

It was so long ago, another lifetime. But the memories were just as sharp as if she just lived them.

Rey touched her shoulder, as if she would find Ben's hand there. It wasn't, like always.

()()()()()

Standing under the spray of scalding hot water, Ben rubbed his eyes with the corner of his palms, a brilliant flash of green, violet, and white exploding behind his lids. He kept his eyes closed as he held his breath and let the water pelt him right in the face.

He was disappointed in himself for adding two minutes onto his run through Central Park, having done this established route of four miles just two days prior.

Just because strength wasn't an issue for him, didn't mean he was inherently a great runner or overly muscular. He had to gain bulk and cardio endurance just like everyone else: good old fashioned exercise. Ben just had to lift a lot more weight than what a normal person could handle in order for his muscles to give out.

As he shampooed and conditioned his hair, it was difficult to lift his arms, his muscles having liquefied from going hard on the weight bench. The urgent search to find a place to live in Manhattan and the time it took to move into the penthouse had been exhausting and arduous, making him slack in his exercise routine.

And Ben was all about sticking to a schedule. If he didn't he became antsy, and when he became antsy, he couldn't concentrate and focus, allowing that cruel voice of addiction to slither through his defenses and entice him with a drink.

God, he really could use a drink.

_No_, he internally rebuked, twisting the shower knob all the way off with a little too much force. It miraculously didn't break.

He dried off, glancing around the bathroom that was bigger than most New York City apartments. The look of it wasn't muted enough, the marble floor and countertop exuding an overly sophisticated elegance he didn't really feel matched his personality. With everything being so white and reflective, he almost needed to squint his eyes against the overall brightness.

The shower he could definitely get used to, though. It was huge, easily accommodating his size with room to spare. The three showerheads were such a bonus to have after a workout; Ben wondered how he ever lived without them.

The rest of the penthouse was similar to the style of the bathroom: white quartz countertops, white cabinets in the kitchen, and light grey paint coating the walls. White and light, that seemed to be a running theme with the previous tenant. At least it hadn't been yellow.

The furniture he had control over. He got it all in black – the leather sofa, tables, chairs, everything.

Hanging the towel on a rack, Ben padded naked into his room, his steps soft against the dark hardwood floors. His clothes were situated on his ebony sheets: black Armani suit, dress shirt and tie, with Louboutin shoes to complete the overall look.

Ben had expensive taste, but if he could afford it, why not? The trust fund and old money he'd come into when he turned twenty-one made him a multi-millionaire. Add on the celebrity clients he had on the side, and money was never an issue for him.

Which reminded him, he needed to look over that studio contract for–

Pulling on his boxer briefs, Ben's ears suddenly popped, the sounds of New York being sucked into a vacuum that was as inescapable as it was unwelcome.

He scrambled to the bedside table, opening the section of the pill organizer labeled Monday. It was empty. He'd taken his meds this morning. He had remembered.

Ben cursed, scrunched his eyes tightly closed, and covered his ears. Even through the heightened heart rate that thrummed through his eardrums, he heard _her_, the hallucination that'd been plaguing his existence since he was twenty-two.

His shadow nudged at his heels, attempting to make him turn around. Ben was staunch with refusal. The cursed thing remained persistent, pulling and tugging and sending out waves of frustration.

"You can look at her without me turning around, you fucking parasite," Ben growled.

Kylo didn't appreciate the tone.

Latching onto Ben's brain waves, Kylo flooded his mind with a live broadcast of the woman currently traipsing around the room.

Wait… was she... dancing?

She twirled on light feet, her arms bent in the air as if dancing with a partner, her smile eating up most of her face. She laughed that precious fucking laugh that warmed Ben's heart every time he heard it, her dress fanning out with her lithe movements.

That was always how it was when she showed up. Well, not the dancing thing. That was new. But whenever she appeared, she never acknowledged his existence. It was like she was living her life without interruption – pouring herself tea or cleaning or reading a book. Maybe even gardening. Sometimes she talked as if having a conversation with someone Ben couldn't see or hear, making it hard to follow what was being discussed.

Whatever she was doing, she never noticed him.

The woman eventually faded away. His ears picked up the sound of outside traffic.

Ben slid to the ground, his back resting against the bed, a shaky hand running through damp hair.

He was a fucking crazy person. There was no way to sugarcoat it.

For as long as he could remember, Kylo had been a constant presence in his life. When Ben was a kid, they'd been… pals, of sorts. Ben hadn't understood the unusualness of it all, talking and confiding in a shadow. People just thought he had an imaginary friend.

Then the voice started. _Her_ voice. He'd hear it randomly throughout the day, none of it ever making sense.

"_The day is so beautiful, we should have tea out in the gardens."_

"_Could you help me take off this corset?"_

"_Your mother would have our heads if we skip another family meal."_

"_I love you."_

Even with the clear affection in her tone, Ben was still terrified by it all. Kylo, however, couldn't get enough of it. When her voice first started in his teens, they constantly fought over what to do. Ben wanted to ignore it completely, Kylo wanted to investigate further.

Ben got his way.

For a while, he felt in control of his life. He even knew how to come across like an average teenager. That all changed on a drizzly fall afternoon when he decided to take a new route home from school.

He passed one of the houses and couldn't ignore the feeling that overcame him. It was vile. Dirty. Suffocating and thick, with an energy that scratched across Ben's skin like claws.

He had to see… had to know what it was.

When he crawled inside through a basement window, his hands touched the cement floor. Ben tried to gasp, but nothing came as he choked on his own dry tongue. Death, that was what lay hidden below. He could sense the decaying corpses, that they all had led a life as innocent children.

Girls.

So young.

There was a whimper from the corner. A girl was tied up, frightened and shaking.

It was an eight-year-old Rose. Ben freed her, hoisting her up through the basement window, telling her to go next door for help.

She had begged him to come with her. She was scared, could barely talk through the intense trembling. But Ben had something he needed to do. Once she had scurried away, he went on the hunt. With Kylo's help, Ben found the guy upstairs and killed him, making it slow and excruciating.

Rose had watched, having snuck back in the house while Ben was unaware. She swore never to tell anyone what he had done, and for being a little eight-year-old, she was true to her word. Ben left before the police came. Rose feigned confusion, telling them she had freed herself and found the guy already dead.

They'd been friends ever since, both watching as the other went through their own ups and downs in life, their own struggles. Even during the time at Julliard, when Ben got to peak levels of assholery, Rose still emailed him daily, updating him on her life. He ignored her for months. He'd been a horrible friend.

She forgave him after he hit rock bottom and contacted her. That was a hard conversation to have. Ben wasn't accustomed to admitting he was wrong.

Ben paid Rose's college tuition and even footed the bill when she got her business degree. She had needed a lot of help financially back then after her parents passed away a year into attending classes.

He went on to invest in the nightclub her and her sister Paige opened up, becoming a co-owner. Being an alcoholic, Ben had only been inside the place once, right before it opened. He let the Tico sisters run it without him, content with just giving them whatever money they needed.

So… yeah. He only had one friend in a world that housed 7 billion people. And out of those 7 billion people, Ben had found the best one.

Rose was the only living soul who knew the extent of how he was different, that he had abilities science and logic couldn't explain. He confided in Rose every time a new one popped up, and she always talked him out of locking himself away in a mental hospital somewhere. To her, the things he could do were a gift. Without them, she'd be dead.

To him, they were a punishment. Perhaps a higher power was damning him for what he'd done, like a severe chastisement for committing murder.

"_That man deserved death_," Kylo told him. _"Remember all the little girls he molested and killed?_" Ben tried not to. "_You're a hero. Without us, Rose's fate would've been the same as theirs."_

"Don't try to come off as righteous," Ben argued, his voice not nearly as strong as he'd like it to be. "Your need for violence is something I constantly have to keep in check."

"_You didn't complain when I helped you kill him. Or that other one_." Ben swallowed, his body blistering with heat. _"Because you liked it. I felt that you did. You lie to yourself by saying it disgusts you, that your violent tendencies are because of me, but you still dream about the time you killed both those men."_

Ben's nostrils flared. "Shut up."

"_So really_," Kylo continued, _"which of us is pretending to be the righteous one here?"_

With Ben's knees bent and feet flat on the floor, the shadow stretched along the hardwood and slinked up the wall, looking down at him. Before he could stop himself, Ben jumped to his feet and punched at the silhouette, his fist going through the drywall.

He pulled out his arm. The hole he created went right into the bathroom.

Kylo laughed, slow and deep. _"You call me pathetic_. _But you're the one not living up to your full potential._"

Ben surveyed the broken skin of his knuckles and the blood sliding down his forearm. "At least I'm not fawning after someone who isn't real," he said as he went to the sink in the bathroom, running warm water over his hand, not reacting to the sting. "You basically drool every time that woman shows up, like she's some goddamn eye candy or something."

"_She belongs to us. We belong to her."_

"It's the 21st century, dumbass, someone can't belong to you," Ben countered, going for the first aid kit beneath the sink. His hand finally started to pound, pain blossoming up his arm. "And she's a fucking hallucination. Or does your lack of a brain make you incapable of not knowing what that means? She. Isn't. Real."

"_Yes, she is."_

Ben rolled his eyes, flexing his hand to make sure nothing was broken. "Then how about you leave me alone and go be with her. Oh, wait. You can't," he mocked, feeling satisfied by Kylo's simmering annoyance.

Ben wrapped a bandage around his mangled knuckles. Smaller injuries tend to heal quicker, usually within a few hours of acquiring them. More serious ones required medical attention, like the wounds he sustained in Iraq. Those his body couldn't mend on its own.

He glanced at the newly created hole in the wall. He'll have to contact somebody to fix it. He had someone on speed dial back in LA, cause shit like that happened on the regular. But here, he only had Rose. Girl didn't even know how to use a hammer and a nail.

Browsing through Thumbtack was now added to his to-do list while at work.

Hand taken care of, Ben went to his dresser and checked his phone. There was an email from his uncle and some texts from Mitaka, all of which was just him being a brownnoser.

He opened his Gmail account, reading over the contents quickly. His uncle, Luke Skywalker, esteemed psychologist and respected by many in his field, was going to be here in a week to give him refills on his medications.

Ben grimaced.

He hadn't seen his uncle in three years, preferring to converse with him through text or email.

Since Ben had left LA in a rush, and with the complications of getting antipsychotics filled at a pharmacy when he wasn't yet a resident of New York, his uncle was going to have to bring the refills to him in person. And apparently, sending them via mail was a no-go.

It wasn't that Ben hated the man… or maybe he did, he wasn't sure.

The relationship with his uncle was… very complicated. The man had raised him, made it so he didn't face criminal charges for the whole incident at Julliard, and aided Ben in getting to attend Yale's law school by smooth talking a very reluctant admissions office.

Ben had a near perfect score for the LSAT. That alone should have been enough for him to get him in. It hadn't been once they found out about 'the incident'. Good thing his uncle had a few connections.

Luke had helped him a lot throughout his life; Ben could admit that. But the one thing that he just couldn't get passed?

Luke wouldn't tell Ben the truth about his parents. Not how they died. Where they were buried. Why Ben couldn't find any information on them. Nothing. It was like they didn't exist. All his uncle could offer was a promise to tell him the whole truth once he was older.

Well, he was now 36, turning 37 in November and no closer to the truth. Not even private investigators could dig anything up.

Ben cut Luke out of his life as much as he could. His uncle's promises had been bullshit, and it hurt Ben deeply to finally realize that he was being lied to just to be placated.

Dressed, Ben went to check over his appearance.

"_Looking sharp,_" Kylo commented.

Ben ignored the compliment – it sounded more like mockery – as he went to the bathroom to put product in his hair. "I don't want any of your usual shit while I'm at work today."

Kylo didn't answer.

Hair coiffed and perfectly placed, Ben placed his hands next to the sink and just looked at himself. He'd never liked his face. His nose and eyes, chin and lips never meshed well together, in his opinion. But something about it had held women's interest while he was at Julliard. He honestly couldn't put a number to how many of them he fucked during that two year span. Couldn't remember most of their faces, either.

He had toyed with so many of those women, leading them on or getting them to cheat on their partners, seeing how far he could take it. It had all been a game to him. He ruined people's lives. And for what? None of it brought him happiness.

He'd been so cruel…. Was he still that person?

His hands began to shake, body growing hot.

He wanted a drink. Just one.

"_She'd be disappointed if you ruined your sobriety_," Kylo commented. "_She'd be less inclined to be with you if you ruin your life again_."

As much as Kylo was a sadistic presence in Ben's life, he had always disapproved of all the drinking and the women and the bars Ben used to frequent. Other than murder, his shadowy counterpart judged him pretty much on every aspect of his life, down to his choice in vitamins.

Kylo preferred the Flintstone chewables. Ben thought them too chalky. They compromised with the gummies.

"I doubt a hallucination would care," Ben said, his mouth a hard line.

"_What if I care?"_

Ben shook his head

This shadow, demon, evil spirit – whatever the fuck it was, was an expert at giving Ben emotional whiplash. One second the thing was being a condescending prick, and the next, it acted like it actually gave two shits about his well-being.

Ben flexed his hands, trying to alleviate the shakes as he left the bathroom.

"All you care about is being with that ghost of a woman," Ben said as he grabbed his leather messenger bag off the kitchen island, "and you can't do that without me… since you're nothing but a shadow." He grabbed a handful of dum dums out of the bag in the pantry, unwrapping and popping one in his mouth. He shoved the rest into the satchel.

Kylo sulked and retreated.

Ben enjoyed the blissful silence left behind in his wake. But his shadow only left him alone because Kylo knew, just as Ben did, that no matter how much he mocked him for being infatuated with an apparition or refused to look at her when she appeared, Ben wanted to find her just as bad as Kylo.

But if Ben gave in and aimed his obsessive personality at that woman, it would no doubt consume him. It would be worse than the alcohol and the drugs, because with her, there was no fix, no end… because she wasn't even real. He'd be chasing a ghost for the rest of his life.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't live that way again. And if he ever fell back to the way he was before, there would only be one way out this time.

Death has always been a constant companion in Ben's life, and he'd pay the malevolent bastard a visit by shoving a pistol in his mouth and pulling the trigger.

**A/N**

**For the beginning of the story, when Copper is speaking, I took some inspiration from a scene in Chernobyl about when he kills the guy. The stuff about the animals... well, it's actually a true story of someone close to me. Don't worry, I asked permission to use it in the fic.**

**If you're a little confused or lost as to what has happened in the past or why the hell Ben has those weird abilities, that is intentional. I haven't revealed everything yet. But don't worry, answers are coming!**


	3. Chapter 3

**MBellicose: Well you don't have to wait long, cause this chapter is all about them meeting! Feathers: Thanks for the review and for being intrigued with the story! Yeah, Finn is a Grim Reaper and is able to be corporeal. There will be parts in the story told from his perspective, and you will be able to learn more about exactly what he is and what he does and how he came to be. There is a backstory to him, and also him and Rose will be plot B of the story. Characters are a lot more intertwined than what is initially shown, but all will be revealed eventually. Tortured, super human Ben is such a good description of him. lol. And Ben and Kylo's relationship does progress and I'm so excited to write what I have in mind for the two of them! When all hell breaks loose, they will have to rely on each other... maybe even become friends... ;) Lastly, yes, they do meet in this chapter. hehe. Bendemption: I know the supernatural aspect of it can be weird, but I'm glad you're at least giving it a chance. At least for a little bit. There is an explanation for the supernatural elements. I also love reading long chapters, but I try not to write them. lol. Which is why I split this chapter into two, so the next one is mostly written. I try really hard to find a good balance between information and dialogue. I love reading dialogue more than long paragraphs, but I need to set up character personalities and the plot before I can get to writing really long conversations. And I can't forget those mystery boxes! There sure is a lot of them. :)**

**Some of you – or most of you – will find that Ben is not a super nice person in this chapter... or the next one. But he does get better. He just feels like he's going insane and wants answers. And Rey... poor Rey, she is very confused in this chapter and doesn't know what to make of Ben. Her thoughts are all over the place.**

**I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. I'm tired and have strep throat and need to catch up on sleep!**

**Happy Reading!**

Chapter Three: Meeting

When Rey glanced at the digital clock on the desk, it read 12:32 p.m.

She'd been sitting in the office in the same spot for four hours. It was difficult sometimes to keep track of time in her condition. With her body never aching or becoming stiff, she could stay in the same position for… well, she supposed forever. The longest she ever went without moving a single finger was about two days.

Rey blinked, her eyes still on the photograph of her and Ben. It was a copy of the original, of course. Like she would risk something happening to the real thing. No way.

The original was safely sealed in plastic and stored in her trunk back in the apartment. She brought the duplicate with her to each job that allotted her a desk, sometimes passing the time by just staring at it. Now, most employees had their phones to occupy their idle time, but Rey never cared much for the Internet or social media. She would much rather daydream and gaze at the photo.

Those who commented on the snapshot thought it darling that her and her husband would do an old time portrait, dressed in antique clothes. They all assumed her husband was alive since she still wore her gold wedding band. She didn't have it in her to correct them.

With a big gulp of air, Rey stood, willing herself to pull it together. She spread out her things on the desk, filling the drawers with post-it notes, pens, and her planner. The photo took up residence beside her laptop. Her fingertips brushed over Ben's face.

Benjamin was a common name. And Solo was not an unheard of surname. There was Bobby Solo, the Italian singer, and that American women's soccer goalie – what's her name? Hope? Whatever was happening here was just happenstance. Nothing more.

But could she call her boss Mr. Solo? She would think of Ben every time she did, and that might take a toll on her after a while.

God… maybe she really should just quit.

But having two secretaries quit for the same boss in the same day might give Mitaka a heart attack.

Rey groaned.

She'd start looking for another job over the weekend and hopefully be out of this place in a week. Two, tops. She could stay for two weeks. It was doable. Until then, there was no reason to be less than sufficient at her secretarial duties. Pride and all that.

Rey brushed the wrinkles from her pencil skirt and walked out of the office. The skyscraper had two floors dedicated as food courts, offering a wide enough variety of meals for even the pickiest of eaters. Rey figured she should stock up on snacks, just in case her boss' blood sugar got low.

The expansive eatery was packed with people thanks to the lunch rush.

Looking over the options, she realized she'd forgotten to read over the email Mitaka had forwarded her that listed her boss' food preferences. To remedy that, Rey got a mix of junk food, and granola bars that appeared healthy. It did say vegan on the package.

While perusing for an actual meal, the smell of pizza made her mouth water. Rey licked her lips. Pizza was a real weakness of hers. That, and fries. Maybe some food would help distract her from being so nervous.

She picked up two slices of thin crust pepperoni and cheese. A classic.

With her tray filled with all sorts of goodies, she waited in the checkout line. She glanced beyond those who were ahead of her and passed the register, not seeing any available seats. It wasn't too concerning; eating back in the office wasn't a big deal. She should probably be there when her boss arrived, anyway.

The line was painfully slowly moving. Rey started tapping her heel with impatience. To pass the time, she unlocked her phone and opened the email from Mitaka. Her stare narrowed on the text. A dress code was mandatory for all secretaries and legal aids that worked with Mr. Solo: skirts must go passed the knees, no sleeveless shirts or V-necks, and heels could be no more than two inches high. Makeup must be minimal – no lipstick – and hair had to be pulled back into a low bun.

Rey's eyeballs almost bugged out of her head. She was a traditionalist when it came to her own modesty, but even she could recognize oppression when she saw it. And she was already in violation of most of the stipulations.

Who did this guy think he was? He didn't have the right to tell a woman what they could and couldn't–

"So you're my new secretary," a low, achingly familiar voice said from behind. "Mitaka pointed you out to me from where we're eating."

Rey clammed up. Didn't breathe. Wondered if she were somehow having a stroke.

The man moved so he could stand in front of her. "We have an extra seat if you'd like to join –" he stopped talking the moment she lifted her eyes. His face, his hair, his tall and broad build – everything about him was exactly the same as she remembered. Except his eyes; the sunglasses he wore hindered her from seeing them.

He was the one to take a step back, eyebrows raised. "You…" he whispered.

Rey blinked, feeling the panic growing in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't concentrate on anything else: not the noises around her, not the smells of food, not the people waiting in line and telling her to move forward.

Ben was here… standing in front of her... consuming all of her senses.

Her tray crashed to the ground, her hands no longer having the dexterity to hold onto it. Ben was taken aback, hopping to the side and dodging the slice of pizza that had gone in the direction of his shoes.

And then Rey was running.

She zipped through the cafeteria and jumped into the elevator as it closed, the people inside startled by her sudden appearance.

She wheezed for air, her throat closing up and her mouth running dry. Her heart was starting to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rising, her brain firing off every negative thought like a machine gun.

One of the strangers asked if she was all right. The lift dinged. She darted onto her floor without answering.

Ripping the door almost off its hinges, she darted about the office and gathered up her things.

She'd finally lost it, her brain conjuring up ghosts out of the well of her loneliness. She couldn't bear to be haunted by his image for the rest of eternity, knowing that he was just a mirage she couldn't touch.

She had to get out of there. Maybe Finn could help her–

In the doorway blocking her escape stood Ben, his hair disheveled and his breathing labored as if he sprinted up five flights of stairs just to get to her. But delusions didn't need to traverse stairs and didn't get out of breath.

Unless… unless they had a body. Unless they were actually real.

He stepped inside, the door closing behind him. An apparition wouldn't have been able to touch the door.

_Oh my God…._

First, Ben took off his sunglasses, tossing them on the nearby couch. Next, he peeled off his gloves, leaving them on the floor. Then, with a careful stride, he approached her. Rey backed herself against a bookcase, sweat beading all over her body.

Her memories of him had not done his beauty justice, and she found that she couldn't look away. Those eyes… she remembered those eyes all too well. Even now, with just a stare, he could still peg her in place with just a look, willing her to stay.

"Lorraine," he muttered in reverence.

And just like that, Rey's panic subsided, her confusion seized, and everything just floated away. Something warm and passionate and homely was left behind, her name falling from his lips having formed a string between their hearts. They were connected on a level that transcended all rational thought, that only lived in the realm of mortal fiction.

She had missed that feeling, had missed experiencing it with him.

He was so close now. She mapped the moles on his face, finding them to be exactly where they should be. He licked his lips, and Rey knew, she just knew and accepted that she wasn't going anywhere.

Studying his eyes, something rippled across them, like smoke or a shadow, the odd occurrence causing his amber stare to darken. It was so subtle, that if she were not mere inches from his face, she would've easily missed it. But it didn't frighten her; quite the opposite, in fact.

It drew her in.

Rey snapped out of her trance when Ben cradled her face, heat blooming in her veins from his touch, gathering deep within her abdomen. Her eyes watered as she craned her head up, and then his mouth was upon hers, lips warm, soft.

Real.

She shouldn't be doing this. She should be getting on her hands and knees and pleading for him to still love her after everything she'd done. She should explain.

But God how she longed for this, the feel of him on her lips, against her body. She was so touched starved for him, that talking would have to wait.

Rey relaxed at the edge of the cliff she'd been teetering on for the better part of a hundred years and fell.

()()()()()

Dopheld Mitaka was waiting for Ben by the time he pulled his black Rolls-Royce Cullinan into the designated parking spot in the garage below the building.

Once he turned off the engine, Mitaka gave Ben a skittish smile as he opened the door for him. "Mr. Solo," Mitaka said in greeting, shaking Ben's hand with cold, wet palms. "I hope your move hasn't been too taxing."

Ben grabbed his bag from the back seat before locking the car. "It was fine." He could tell Mitaka expected him to expand upon the statement, but Ben wasn't much of a conversationalist.

"Well," Mitaka said, trying to cut through the awkwardness as they moved to the elevators, "on behalf of the office, we're all very excited that you decided to transfer here. It'll be nice to have the head of the department readily at our disposal."

"Because I came here to make your lives easier."

Mitaka paled, stumbling over his words. "That's… I didn't mean…. It was just quite shocking to learn that you'd be moving to New York so quickly. We only got the news last week."

Annoyed that Mitaka forgot to press the button for the elevator, Ben stepped around him and did just that. "That's when I decided to leave LA."

"You… you made the decision to come out here and move across the country all within the span of a week?"

"I don't like to wait when I know what I want to do."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "May I ask why?"

Ben's grip was vice-like on the handles of his messenger bag as he stepped into the lift. "No."

Mitaka looked away, cleared his throat, and pressed the button for their floor. As the elevator made several stops, becoming more and more full, Mitaka somehow braved talking to Ben again. "Are you hungry? There's an eatery on the 27th floor that offers a large selection of food. I can have something brought up to you. Or I can have your secretary order something from the city."

Ben was about to reject the offer, but right at the mention of food, his stomach twisted with hunger pains and he could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to form. With how large he was and in order to maintain muscle mass, he made sure he never went more than a few hours without at least a snack or protein shake. But with that woman's untimely visit in the morning and Kylo being the annoying bastard he was, eating had been the last thing on Ben's mind.

And the dum dums he consumed on the way to work only went so far.

Pressing himself into the corner to allow more room for the other passengers, Ben asked, "What does it have?"

Mitaka opened his mouth, and then faltered. "Oh, uh… well… I think it has pizza."

Ben sighed. Clearly the man had no idea. "Just show me."

Trying to save face for his gaffe, Mitaka quickly said, "Your secretary could get something for you –"

"How can I order something when I don't even know what's offered?"

"Of course. Fine point."

Already emotionally compromised from the morning he had and the hunger he felt, Ben realized right as he entered the cafeteria that he hadn't clearly thought the decision through.

The place was bustling with people. Then again, he should've realized it was lunchtime.

Emotions were going to be a problem, whether they were his own or someone else's. By this point in his life, Ben was quite good at shielding himself from experiencing another person's emotional state. Still, things tended to slip through the cracks every now and then – which fucking sucked cause he could barely handle his own feelings, let alone someone else's without the aid of context.

He would have to keep up his guard.

Scoping out the options, Ben decided to go with a gourmet sandwich on whole wheat, not really in the mood for anything heavier.

After paying, Mitaka guided them over to a table, introducing him to some of the employees that worked in the advertising and writing departments. Ben really wasn't in the headspace to sit down and make small talk. Back at the headquarters in LA, he always took his meals in his personal office. Alone.

But then his stomach gurgled and his hands started to shake and he knew he needed to eat as soon as possible before he got so light headed that he teetered. He sat down in an open seat and proceeded to inhale the sandwich, the others at the table falling into their own conversations and leaving him alone.

That was until Mitaka softly elbowed him in the side to get his attention. Ben glared at him, but Mitaka was looking at something straight ahead, unaware of Ben's ire. "Oh. There's your secretary," he said, pointing across the room. "At the far end, waiting in line to checkout. White blouse, black shirt, brown hair."

When Ben's eyes found the woman, he paused right as he was about to put the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. Kylo stirred, his interest peaking along with Ben's. It was difficult to get a proper view of her through the crowd, but he could sense something was... different about her.

Mitaka was still talking. "... impressed with her interview and –"

Ben gathered his coat and shouldered his messenger bag as he shot to his feet, leaving his sandwich and Mitaka behind. He worked his way through the sea of tables and people, sights set on the woman. Kylo jumped beneath Ben's skin, wound up with anticipation, both of them eager to meet her.

He came up behind her, ignoring the ire of those behind him who thought he cut in line. Peering over her shoulder, he saw she was reading something on her phone.

Ben took a few deep breaths before speaking. "So you're my new secretary." The woman visibly jolted, but otherwise remained frozen. "Mitaka pointed you out to me from where we're sitting."

Still, the woman didn't move. Why he felt compelled to talk and be near her, Ben wasn't sure. Striking up conversations with strangers wasn't something he did often.

Ben pivoted around her, trying to get in her line of sight. "We have an extra seat if you'd like to join –"

He finally saw her face.

"_Lorraine_," the name tore through Ben's mind.

"_Mine," _Kylo growled, like a predator finding its prey.

Hypnotized, the sounds of the cafeteria faded away, the heightened rhythm of his heartbeat the only noise in his ears.

As he held her gaze, he was momentarily shocked by an energy that passed between them, an energy that was so familiar and binding, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. As her wide eyes looked up at him, it was like she was searching among his soul for a string, grasping onto it and anchoring it her own. Connecting them together.

The moment shattered as Lorraine dropped the tray of food. Ben dodged a slice of pizza. When he looked up, she was already near the eatery's exit.

Ben ran after her, not giving a shit who he pushed out of the way.

"_She isn't yours," _Ben told Kylo in rebuke.

Ben missed the elevator by mere seconds. Impatient, he took the stairs.

"_I'm the one who was right about her being real," _Kylo argued with desperation. _"I'm the one who kept the faith that we would find her. I believed in her when you didn't!"_

"_That doesn't mean you deserve her."_

"_Yes, it does."_

By the time he made it to his office, he was out of breath, face beading with sweat. When he swung open the door, Lorraine was across the room, clearing the desk of her things.

As their eyes met, that feeling came back, stronger and more potent. Even Kylo was drawn in, the shadow blending in with Ben's consciousness, looking through his eyes and feeling what he felt. For once, they were of one mind and one goal, united in desire.

Ben felt like he was about to pass out. It was a lot to be experiencing all at once.

He took off his glasses and gloves, not caring where they ended up. He neared her, slowly and carefully.

Her name left his lips, his brain lighting up in an intoxicating new pattern, sectors of his mind that had been previously dark were pierced with an arousal that was habit forming. The need to have her was so sharp and unexpected, that he had no way of protecting himself from it.

And it was clear that Lorraine was just as fixated on this encounter as he was.

_Say something_, Ben told himself.

They were close now, almost chest to chest. Lorraine's lips parted, drawing his eyes to what he wanted. The idea of speaking died away, his mouth heralding a different mission that did not involve words.

His hands came up to the sides of her throat, and then cradled her jawline with his thumbs. As he dropped down, he eased his head to the side….

His lips touched hers and he held it there, both of them frozen by the shock of contact. The kiss was soft and slow at first, the warm velvet pressure rocketing through his veins and thickening his blood with a carnal drive that was as beautiful and enchanting as a new day sun.

The make out session quickly turned fierce, both of them needing more, searching for the end to their beginning. His arms wrapped around her waist and her hands tangled in his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp and making him gasp. They fought to get closer to each other, to smother whatever loneliness and insecurity had taken root throughout their individual lives.

They both fumbled for the privacy of his office, the door just beyond her desk.

Once inside, he bunched her skirt up around her waist and palmed her firm bottom, her thong allowing him to feel her silky skin. He gave each cheek a squeeze before he hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around him and her core hitting right against his erection. They both gasped at the contact, pausing for only a second before he sat her on his empty desk.

They were both frantic as she helped him unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly, their lips not wanting to part. His cock popped out at attention, his pants an afterthought as they fell around his ankles. She stroked him from the base to the tip and he bucked into her hand, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth.

Her strokes became frenzied, his jerks uncoordinated.

With her being too low on the desk, he lifted her again and shuffled them over to the wall. She grunted from the pressure of being between him and a hard place, and he was about to apologize when her lips abruptly silenced him, drawing him back into a world where only the two of them existed.

Moving the strip of underwear aside, he plunged two fingers inside of her hot, wet core, massaging and pumping and making her whimper like an animal in heat.

"More," she demanded, voice guttural.

He pushed her panties further to the side and with one fluid motion, sheathed himself completely inside her. They moaned simultaneously, though he was by far the loudest. As he started to pump, a low noise formed in her throat – not quite a purr, but not a growl either.

She grabbed his face and their tongues battled for dominance and nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing should feel this good and right. It was alarming, whatever this was that was forming between them.

No. Not forming. It had always been there. This was more than just sex, and Ben would know. He'd been buried balls deep in so many women and none of them, not a single one, had he ever felt this connected to.

Him and this woman were a match, a set, a twin energy that neither of them understood, but both needed in order to feel complete.

Both of them crested at the same time, her moans the sweetest melody to have ever graced his ears.

()()()()()

The seconds that ticked away into minutes came and went with mollifying alacrity as Rey came down from the high. This was what belonging felt like – in Ben's arms.

With their breaths intermingled, Rey buried her face in the crook of Ben's neck, nuzzling closer. Always wanting to be closer.

Ben's hands remained firmly on her rear, his manhood still twitching inside of her… where it belonged.

Rey drew back and searched his face as if trying to assess how any of this could be possible. Like maybe it was all just a dream… but no. Her dreams had only ever been filled with memories. And this certainly wasn't one of those.

"I can't believe you're here," she said, palms going to his cheeks. "That we've found one another. And I know things are complicated–"

"Complicated?"

She paused, but only briefly. "Yeah…. Because of everything that... happened."

Ben didn't just look confused. He looked downright lost. "Happened?" He slid out of her as he placed her on the floor and pulled his pants back around his waist. "Have we met before?"

Rey frowned and adjusted her skirt, ignoring Ben's seed seeping past her thong and down her inner thighs. "Don't you… don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" He stuffed his shirt below the waistband and buckled his belt.

Rey chuckled nervously, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "This is hardly the time to joke around –"

Ben moved so quick, Rey didn't even have time to be startled. He grabbed her left wrist, examining her hand with wild eyes. "Are you fucking married?"

Rey glanced at her wedding band, then back at Ben's reddening face. "This isn't funny, Ben." She tried to pull her arm away, but his hold didn't budge.

He tugged her forward, close enough for her to feel his breath across her cheeks. "I agree. Cheating on your husband isn't a joke."

Every part of her went on pause while her thoughts played catch-up. "I… You think–" Rey's voice downgraded to a whisper. "But… you called me Lorraine."

"Because that's your name."

"And how did you know that?"

"I…" He faltered, as if not knowing how to answer. He dropped the hold he had on her wrist. "I just did."

Rey stepped back.

He didn't know her. He didn't remember her. Which begged the question: was this even Ben? Or was it a copy of him sent to further punish her for her past transgressions? Was God really that cruel?

Of course he was. She was still alive, unable to die and be at peace. Her very existence was torture at this point. And Ben – _her_ Ben – would never have forgotten her. No matter what.

But then her brain brought up a very good point: how did he know her true name?

This had to be Ben, then… right? How else would he know something like that? But why did he know her name and not the memories associated with it?

Too many questions, all of them contradicting. She just… she needed a moment to _breathe._

Going for the door she said, "My name is Rey."

The man followed her. "No, it's Lorraine."

"And how would you know if we've never met?" she asked, quickly going through the desk drawers and putting the rest of her office supplies into her bag.

"You basically just admitted it five seconds ago," he stated, as if it were obvious.

Her trembling hands dropped the planner on the floor. She hastily picked it up.

"My name isn't Lorraine."

"But it is!"

Right before closing her leather satchel, she saw a sliver of the picture of her and Ben. It squeezed at her heart, causing the muscle to hiccup.

She shook her head and looked right at him. "You don't know that because we've never met."

"But when I called you Lorraine, you didn't–." He stopped talking, running a rough hand through his hair. This conversation was getting them nowhere, and he must have realized that. "How do you know me, then? If we've never met before, why were you talking to me and apologizing like we were close?"

"I was mistaken. I thought you were someone I knew from a long time ago."

He neared her, standing on the other side of the desk, eyes intent. "How long ago?"

"Does that matter?"

"Are we talking a hundred years ago? 150? 200?"

Rey blinked. "I – Why would you ask something like that?"

"Because I've been having hallucinations of a woman who literally dresses like she could be straight out of a Jane Austen novel, and somehow, she looks exactly like you."

Rey hadn't been expecting that. "You've been… you've been hallucinating me?"

Could it be…. Could this actually be Ben?

His eyes narrowed, palms on the desk so he could lean in towards her. "You know why, don't you? You know why I've been hearing your voice and seeing you everywhere I go. Why? Why has this been happening to me?"

"I don't know."

He slammed a fist against the hard metal top. She yelped out of fear. "Yes, you do. And you're going to tell me everything you know."

There was a pull in his voice, beckoning her to give into his demand, his eyes gluing her stare to his.

Rey opened her mouth... "I don't know anything."... and resisted him.

Ben straightened, like he'd been anticipating her to say something entirely different.

The door opened. It was Mitaka.

"Oh. Sorry, I was just–." Mitaka looked between the two of them, the tense atmosphere apparent as he tried to decipher what was going on. "Was I interrupting something?"

Rey said _no_ as Ben said _yes._

As it grew quiet, both of the men locking eyes with each other, Rey took it as an opportunity to hurry to the door. Mitaka held it open, allowing her to leave. Just as she stepped out into the hallway, she stopped when Mitaka inquired about her well-being.

She gave him a weak smile. "I'm fine. Really. But you should know that I won't be coming back." Her eyes betrayed her as she glanced at Ben, the fire in his gaze like a threat. Like he was silently telling her that they weren't finished. "I'm sorry for the suddenness, but I quit. I hope you can find someone else more suitable for the job."

She left before either of the men could do or say anything to stop her.

**A/N**

**Well, Rey is a bit overwhelmed. But will she actually get a moment of peace back at her apartment? Or will a certain someone track her down and demand answers? Guess we'll find out next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Feather: Thanks! The reunion didn't go how I expected it to, either. lol. But then I started writing and it took on a life of it's own. If you found last chapter to be a Yikes, just wait till you read this chapter. It, ummm... gets worse before it gets better. And I swear, they will talk soon. Like two adults who aren't confused and irrational and angry. Hope this update came soon enough for you! And as always, I appreciate your comments!**

Chapter Four: Who Are You?

**East Grinstead, West Sussex, 1908, Summer**

"Do you like it?" Ben queried.

Words left Lorraine.

She stared at the dark wood of the cello, her eyes roaming over the curves of the body and the strings that were connected to the pegs. It begged to be touched, to be played.

Lorraine kept her itching hands to herself, leaving the instrument in the hard case on the rug of the parlor. The afternoon light that seeped through the windows gleamed across the varnish, giving the cello an ethereal glow befitting of it's elegance.

"I… it's so beautiful," she finally said. Her eyes met his while she remained on the floor next to the instrument. "Is it for me?"

Ben let out a boisterous laugh, elbows resting on his knees as he watched her from where he sat on the green velvet sofa. Lorraine had missed that laugh; it had been six months since she heard it last. With Ben's busy life back in America, he could only come out to visit her twice a year.

"Yes, of course it's yours," Ben said. "I bought it for you."

"For me?"

"Rey, it's a gift."

"But... it's not my birthday. Nor is it Christmas."

"It doesn't have to be a special day to receive a gift."

"But this" –she pointed to the cello– "must have cost you a fortune. It was made by Antonio Stradivari."

"You needn't worry about money."

"I do when it's wasted on me."

"Every penny I spend on you is not a waste," he spoke sincerely. Lorraine wasn't sure of his finances, but she knew he was well off. His family had a substantial fortune, and he had received a sizable inheritance on top of the interest gained from his own investments.

His wealth perplexed her, though. One of his reasons for not pursuing the career of a thespian was because of the questionable earnings. But he had more than enough money to support himself without a steady income.

No… it had everything to do with his parents, Lorraine had come to realize. As much as Ben was bothered by their expectations of him, he lived his life in a way that could meet their standards. In the end, he wanted to make them proud.

Lorraine just wanted Ben to be happy.

He sat back, running a large hand through his raven hair. "Besides, a close family friend was selling it and when I saw it, I thought of you. I didn't want to come all the way here empty handed."

Lorraine was prevented replying by the curt interruption of a man's voice.

"And he was definitely not empty handed." Her gaze shifted over to Ben's friend in the armchair, the redhead that had traveled with him from America. Armitage Hux was his name, and while the man's accent would make a stranger believe him to be from London, his family had lived in New York for the better part of a decade. From what Ben had told her, he'd known Armitage for years, having met him in law school. And in a moment of confession, out in the gardens when he came out to help her trim the roses, Ben believed Armitage to be his only real friend.

Lorraine had corrected him, of course. What was she to him if not a real friend?

"My betrothed," he had told her. Her heart had a difficult time beating at a steady rhythm after that.

"Lugging that thing around was a special pain in the arse, if you ask me," Armitage continued, sneering into his cup of tea as he took a quick sip. "Some thought we were transporting a body."

"Because that's what you told them," Ben said in annoyance.

Armitage shrugged. "It's not my fault they were too daft to recognize a joke."

"They almost threw the case overboard because they thought it had caused a haunting."

"But you got it back before they could and the cello was unharmed. You saved the day. Be proud of yourself."

Ben rolled his eyes. Armitage went back to enjoying his tea, his eyes going to Lorraine. She shifted her stare to the cello, finding Armitage's gaze on her… taxing.

"Armitage," Ben said, cutting through the momentary silence. "Could you leave Rey and me alone for a bit?"

Armitage looked at Ben, then Lorraine, before settling back on his friend. "I promised Sir Kenobi that I would chaperone you two while he was away."

Ben worked his jaw. "And you will be chaperoning… on the other side of that door."

"I don't think you understand the duties of a chaperone–"

"You know the debt you owe Sterling? From that poker game?"

Armitage narrowed his eyes. "Hard to forget."

"I'll pay it for you."

The teacup was placed on the saucer with a resounding _clink_, Armitage lowering the drink to his lap. "In full?"

"Every dime," Ben promised.

Armitage gave thought to the proposal. "If Sir Kenobi finds out about this–"

"He won't." Ben turned to her, excitement in his tone. "Right, Rey?"

She shook her head. "And don't worry. BB will be here to watch over us." They all glanced at the cat, soundly asleep next to Ben.

Armitage sighed and stood, teacup in one hand as the other tugged and straightened his grey tweed vest. "You have an hour, maybe two before her father gets home. And I trust you will act appropriately?"

"She's thirteen, Armitage," Ben said through clenched teeth.

"And beginning to blossom into a beautiful young woman," Armitage complemented with a smooth grin. Heat fanned across Lorraine's cheeks; she didn't know how to acknowledge the observation. But then Armitage's attention turned to Ben as he sternly told him, "Keep your hands to yourself."

Armitage shut the double mahogany doors on his way out. Lorraine and Ben glanced at each other, shyly sharing a smile.

She went to the sofa across the room, her shaky hands running across her lap to unwrinkle her skirt. Or to give herself something to do.

"Is this alright?" Ben asked, concern scrunching his brow. "That it's just the two of us?"

"Yes," she responded breathlessly.

"You're not uncomfortable being alone with me?"

She shook her head. "I quite like it when it's just us." They rarely had moments where it was only the two of them, both those instances having taken place outside near the gardens. To be in a room with him, no extra company, doors shut and cut off from the world… it was thrilling. "I find it quite bothersome to have someone else in the room, watching us like we're children in need of a babysitter."

"I agree." Ben grabbed his drink from the side table. The butler had made it for him, something called a Mamie Taylor. "But with us being promised to one another, extra precautions have to be taken."

"Lest society think we've laid together," she said bluntly.

Ben choked mid-swallow, coughing as he tried to clear his windpipe. "Where have you…. Did your parents tell you that?"

"The other students at school. They heard about our arrangement and started telling me... things."

"Uh… What kind of things?"

"You know… what men and women do with one another." Lorraine leaned forward, her voice going to a whisper. "Without clothes."

Ben's jaw slackened. "This is what you talk about while at school?"

"Not me. Charlotte was the one mainly talking about it. She saw her older sister doing it with one of the boys in her neighborhood."

"She watched them?" Ben questioned, aghast.

"That's what I said! I was so surprised she would spy on her sister through a window. But I guess it's not all that surprising. Charlotte has already kissed a boy."

Ben went for another sip of his drink. "If Charlotte doesn't slow down, she'll end up like her sister."

Lorraine zeroed in on how his Adam's apple moved up and down as he drank, the way he licked his lips once done.

She cleared her throat. "Have… have you ever kissed a girl?"

"I have." That statement stung in ways Lorraine wasn't anticipating. "When I was six."

"Oh." Just as her heart had ached, it now pumped with satisfaction. "But you were just a child. That hardly counts."

"Well, if it doesn't count, then my answer would be a no."

"Really?"

"Really."

Lorraine bit her lip, her stomach knotting over what she wanted to ask him. What she needed to _know_. "And… have you ever… you know."

Ben regarded her, jaw moving side to side. "Have I ever done what Charlotte and that neighbor boy were doing?" Lorraine gave a tight nod. "No." His eyes went to the mantle above the fireplace. "I believe something that intimate should be shared between husband and wife."

"Which is what we will be… in a few years."

There was a pause, the implication of what she said hanging thick in the air.

Recrossing his legs and adjusting his posture, Ben asked, "Is there anything else you'd like to know about me?"

"I once recall you saying that you abhorred people trying to pry into your private life?"

"I do… but not when you're the one asking the questions."

Lorraine tilted her head. "You'd tell me anything I wanted to know?"

"Yes. Though, I believe you already know me better than most… from all the letters I've sent over the last couple years."

And Lorraine had answered every single one, filling the lines of each post with her own stories and dreams. Their correspondence was frequent, Lorraine receiving letters from Ben every other week. His script was so elegant and refined as he recounted his day to her on paper, how work was fairing for him, how he still wished he could be on stage instead of cooped up in an office.

There were other little things she had picked up on – like how he loved taking his automobile for long drives out in the country, or that sweets were a particular weakness of his; scotch was the most palatable drink to his taste buds, but he hated how every time he tasted it, he thought about his father; he had a preference for walking barefoot whenever he could, forgoing the constricting structure of shoes.

"I've kept all of them, you know," Lorraine told him, voice growing soft, body growing warm. "In a box under my bed."

"Have you now?" She nodded, noting that he looked pleased. "I've kept all of yours, too."

It was peculiar how happy she could feel over such a simple statement. Like knowing that she mattered to someone enough for them to keep her correspondence could make her sigh with relief.

Ben motioned to the cello on the floor. "Can you play something for me?"

"Oh." It took Lorraine a few moments to travel back from the thoughts she'd been having. "Yes, I can. Anything in particular?"

"Anything you play always sounds beautiful."

Lorraine chuckled as she went to take the instrument out of the case, surprised by it lightness. "I've been practicing Mozart's String Quartet #15."

"Did you know that he completed it while his wife Constanze–"

"Was in labor with their child," she finished for him, both sharing a laugh. "Yes, I know." Going back to her spot on the sofa, she unscrewed the endpin at the bottom and elongated it. "The rising string figures in the second movement correspond with her cries Mozart could hear from the other room."

Without preamble, Ben's demeanor changed.

His eyes always became different in moments like that, more soft than Lorraine knew eyes could be. The professional lawyer and strict adult was gone, and instead, he wore the eyes of a man who felt deeply and without shame. If anyone else had stared at her in such a way, Lorraine would have dropped her gaze, maybe even left the room. But she was safe with Ben.

"Play it for me," he softly pleaded, like he was dying of thirst and she held the water. "Please."

Lorraine couldn't deny him. Wouldn't.

The graceful instrument rested between her knees, and she had to widen her legs and stretch her skirt to accommodate the girth. It was a full size cello, reserved for more of an adult stature. But she didn't let her smaller frame deter her from playing. She knew in time, her limbs and torso would grow to fit the instrument perfectly against her body.

In time, she'd be all grown up.

Her right hand held the bow just above the four strings spanning the length of the body. When she finally allowed herself the pleasure of dragging the bow across the D string, a deep resounding hum filled the room, full and satisfying.

She glanced up. Ben was watching her, his eyes now alight with wonder. His lips curved into a small smile, and Rey returned it in full.

She began the song, her left-hand fingers dancing along the fingerboard while her right hand moved back and forth. Both worked in tandem to create a sound that paralleled even the sweetest siren's voice. At least to Ben, it seemed that way. He didn't notice how she clamored through the sixteenth notes.

Lorraine glanced to the door, seeing Armitage watching her through the crack. His gaze was nothing like Ben's – it wasn't warm or inviting or passionate. It was…. Whatever it was, it hardened her stomach and made her feel uneasy.

Lorraine closed her eyes, finding reprieve from the world as she got lost in the music.

()()()()()

**Present Day – April 27, 2020 **

It gave Rey a sliver of comfort knowing Ben hadn't followed her.

But that was the only positive she could find in a day that had quickly spiraled out of her control.

Getting home was a blur, Rey's arms and legs acting out of instinct because her brain sure wasn't being helpful. It just kept replaying what had happened with Ben back at the office, the impact of what she'd done knocking every rational thought out of her brain and into an endless void. She didn't even notice how the weather had shifted, clouds looming overhead as the temperature dropped and the wind had picked up.

Ret struggled to inhale, to exhale, to do anything with her lungs.

That's how she felt the entire way back to her apartment: trying to remember how to breathe, how to speak, how to function like a normal human being even though she wasn't one.

Ben's name bounced around her skull… and she was afraid. Afraid of that person she'd left back at the office.

Rey unlocked the apartment door and slammed it shut. Finn was startled from where he stood by the kitchen counter, in the process of making himself a sandwich.

"Rey, what's–"

"We're moving," was all she said as she hurried to her room. She pulled down a large piece of luggage from the closet and tossed it onto her bed.

Finn stood in the doorway. "What did you say?"

"We're moving," she repeated, not even looking at him as she started going around her room and throwing clothes inside the suitcase. "Pack your things. Or leave it, I don't care. I'll buy you whatever you need. We just need to get out of here."

Finn held up his hands, overwhelmed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Rey, what's going on?"

Ignoring his question, she started rambling. "Los Angeles. That's where we'll go." She grabbed a second smaller suitcase, unzipping it and haphazardly tossing her shoes inside. "You've been telling me for years we should try out Southern California. Get some sun. And we could finally go to Disneyland. We've been putting that off for forever but what the hell, let's do it. We've both never been. And you keep saying how much you want to eat your way through Galaxy's Edge. You can pretend like you're actually in the Galactic Wars universe and build yourself a lightsaber."

"But we can visit Disneyland without actually living there," Finn argued. "And Rey… we can't just move to LA."

Rey froze. "Shit, your job. That's right." She stood and turned to him, trying to come up with a solution. "Couldn't you just ask for an immediate transfer or something? I know in the past we waited till you got permission, but there are plenty of people who die in California. Just last week you were saying how they needed more Reapers out there. Volunteer!"

"It doesn't have anything to do with my job."

"Then what?" Finn didn't answer her. Rey's frustration began to steadily grow. "You've been begging me to move there for, like, ten years now. And now you suddenly don't want to go?"

Finn's brows shot up. "I'm the one being sudden? What about you? Rey, we can't just up and move across the country."

"Why not?"

"It's insane!" He walked over to the bed, gathering up a large pile of her clothes. "You really want to uproot your life without a plan?

She pushed his arms out of the way and put her wardrobe back inside the suitcase. "I don't need a plan. We just need to get out of here."

"You don't need a plan? You, the person who always needs to map out our next move with CIA-worthy precision, wants to move" –Finn snapped his fingers– "just like that."

Rey ignored the apt assessment, her focus going back to packing.

Finn shook his head out of disbelief. "What the hell happened at work?"

Rey grabbed her undergarments out of the top drawer of the dresser. "Nothing."

"It had to be something," Finn pressed. She added her undies and slips to the growing pile of fabric. "You were completely fine this morning when you left and now–"

Pounding came from the door. It went quiet. Then it started up again.

Even though they were at odds, Finn and Rey shared a look of annoyance. They rarely got visitors. Whenever they did, it was that middle aged woman who lived two doors down. From the way she was knocking, it had to be an emergency.

Rey didn't have the time, nor the patience, to deal with Mary right now.

She groaned, making her way to the door. "Mary, again, I haven't seen your guinea pig and BB-8 has been inside all day–"

The person in the doorway was definitely not middle-aged Mary.

Rey was unable to stop Ben from barging inside, her shock sputtering her brain to an all out halt.

Finn walked out of her room and went stock still. It was clear from his expression that he recognized Ben. And why wouldn't he? Rey had shown him pictures, had told him the stories.

Rey stared at Ben, and had absolutely no idea how to handle having him in her apartment.

The emotions swirling inside her were complicated, and… exhausting. For so long, she imagined what it would be like to have Ben by her side, to have him help her and hold her and quell her loneliness. And by the looks of it, he was here. Right there. Standing in the middle of her residence, taking it all in at a very quick glance.

Ben took off his sunglasses and immediately zeroed in on Finn. "You should know your wife fucked me less than an hour ago."

Silence. The kind that lasted days. Months. Years.

Rey shook her head to clear it, like she might have misheard what had been said and the shaking action would help process everything correctly. But nope. He had told that… to Finn.

Finn's widened stare bounced back and forth between the two of them. "Umm… so I'm her roommate–"

Rey swung the door closed, catching everyone's attention. "You need to leave or I'll call the police."

"Where is he?" Ben demanded.

"Who?"

"Your husband."

Unease rippled through her like a toxin. Was this or was this not Ben? What was going on? Rey needed a moment to just think, to figure out what exactly to do next. This was all… it was too much.

"Seriously? You don't know–"

"Finn," Rey cut him off, voice stern for added backup. "And you," she looked to Ben. "Leave."

"Not until I to talk with your husband."

Finn barked out a laugh before covering his mouth. "Are you being serious right now?" He looked to Rey. "Is he being serious right now?"

"Finn, just go back to my roo–"

Ben got right in Finn's face, voice getting low. "Wait downstairs and don't come back up here till I'm gone."

An energy rippled through the air, the hairs on Rey's arms reacting to it and standing up straight. She'd felt it back at the office when he demanded she tell him everything she knew.

A haze fell over Finn's eyes. "I'll wait downstairs and won't come back till you're gone." And then he was walking straight for the door. Rey tried saying something, told him to stop, but Finn didn't seem to take in any of it. Too shocked to even move, Rey stared at the door after Finn shut it.

There was no way _this_ Ben could be _the_ Ben. Ben of the past couldn't do something like that. There'd been nothing supernatural about him. And the personality, it was just all wrong.

Terror gripped her, even though she tried to hide it. If this man wasn't her Ben, who exactly was he?

()()()()()

The girl had fled from the office.

Ben didn't move.

_"What are you doing?"_ Kylo yelled. _"Go after her! Give her whatever she wants! Be whoever she wa–"_

Ben silenced the shadow, tossing him deep within his subconscious so it would take awhile for that annoying piece of shit to crawl back from its depths. It took a lot of mental power to do something like to Kylo, but right now, Ben didn't need the added stress of another voice inside his head besides his own.

He was going to figure this all out his way.

Except….

Ben's left eye twitched as the feeling of being disconnected from Kylo left him… cold.

Interesting.

They'd never been that enmeshed before, never felt such an exhilaration of power as both their souls seeped into being one.

Mitaka stood in front of the door, the one Rey had just rushed through. For being such a submissive employee, the glare he was sending Ben's way was almost impressive.

"If I find out that you sexually harassed that girl, I'll personally make sure that you are removed from this company," Mitaka said, voice low.

Ben considered him for a moment. Like, _really_ considered him. "I didn't think you had the balls to threaten me."

"And I thought you were a man worthy of respect."

"You let me treat you like shit and yet you think I'm respectable?"

Mitaka didn't say anything to that. Just kept up with the glaring.

Ben tilted his head, taking slow steps towards the man. "What would you do if I told you I fucked her? Just now, in my office." Mitaka's mouth hung open. "You'd run out of here and tattle, wouldn't you? Even though I'd deny I ever touched her and there would be the strong possibility of you losing your job. I'd make them think you're after my position, that you're doing it all out of jealousy and greed. In the end, it would be my word against yours, even hers. Would you still do it? Would you still say something?"

"Yes," Mitaka bit out without hesitation.

Ben nodded, taken aback from Mitaka's sudden growth of a spine.

Of course, Ben wouldn't do any of those things. He just wanted to know if Mitaka's true nature matched up with the persona he chose to exude – that he was a good man even when provoked. And indeed, it would appear that he was.

Ben had misjudged the guy. He almost apologized for it.

"Do you have her resumé?" Ben asked, like he hadn't just threatened the man's entire career.

"Who the fuck do you think –"

Intensifying their eye contact, letting that ability of manipulation flow through them, Ben said evenly, "I want you to get her resumé for me and then forget everything you saw here."

Mitaka's face was wiped of any emotion. He straightened, eyes dazed. "I'll get you her resumé and forget everything I saw here."

Ben scurried to gather his things during the time it took for Mitaka to leave and return with what he wanted. Not a single word was uttered between them, Mitaka's movements robotic as he left Ben alone.

Ben glanced at the resumé and breathed out a sigh of relief. Rey had put down her address. From his knowledge of Manhattan, it looked as though she lived close to Korean town. He didn't know that area well enough to travel via the shadows. And parking would be a nightmare around there.

Realistically, parking was a nightmare everywhere in this small fucking city.

He internally groaned once he made the decision to traverse the subway in the middle of the day. It was a risk to be surrounded by so many people, the chance of his glasses coming off or picking up a person's emotions usually causing him to forgo the smallest semblance of a crowd.

Concerts? Nope. Parties? Didn't do those anymore. Planes? Fucking terrible.

Fortunate for him, nothing happened on the journey over to Rey's building. It helped that if anyone got into his personal space, he stared at them as if he'd rip their heads off. Threats of decapitation was a great motivator when it came to leaving him be. And he controlled his anxiety by going through six dum dums.

Timing wasn't even an issue: he came upon the building just as someone was leaving, allowing him to catch the door before it closed.

It was like fate _wanted_ him to see her again.

Getting inside her apartment, Ben was without tact and forwent the pleasantries. He was still driven by the anger of breaking his rule of not fucking random women – especially employees. He felt like Rey needed to be held accountable for her part in it all.

That... and he needed answers.

He mind manipulated the roommate into leaving, waiting till they were alone before speaking. "Who are you?"

Rey peeled her eyes away from the door, stunned over what just happened. Her expression morphed into… something Ben couldn't decipher, those hazel orbs traveling up and down his body, like she was searching for something.

"Well?" he demanded as he came toward her. "An answer would be nice."

She stood her ground. "Who are you?"

"I asked you first."

Up close, he thought… damn, he would give anything to be inside her again. To feel her rubbing against him and panting across his neck. He could see it: the two of them in his bed, sweat sheening their skin as he took his time going in and out of her, their lips lazily kissing. He'd hold her after, his hands caressing her hips as she slept and he watched.

But Ben wasn't the tender sort. When he fucked, it was rough and rushed and there sure as hell wasn't cuddling.

He wanted it, though… wanted what he just imagined. With her.

"I'm Rey," the girl finally said.

"But you're real name is Lorraine," Ben surmised.

"No."

_It is!_ he wanted to yell. But they already went through all this earlier, the conversation getting stuck on repeat and going nowhere.

Ben decided to leave the whole name disagreement for a later time. "Rey what then?"

"Rey Kennedy."

Ben had been anticipating that answer since he had her resumé. But in his rush to get to her place, he hadn't read anything else on that piece of paper.

"And?" he prompted.

"And what?"

"That's it? That's all you are – just a name? There's nothing else about you, no past history or education or where you work?"

"I worked for you until you changed that."

Ben popped his brows. "I recall you quitting. I didn't fire you."

The blush that flared upon her cheeks was quick and harsh. "Like I could keep working there after what we did."

Rey uncooperative attitude was starting to bug the shit out of him.

"I can pay you, if that'll make you feel better," Ben offered. Rey's head jerked back, eyes popping wide open. "No need to look offended. From one whore to another, your performance was well appreciated."

"How can you say something like that to me?"

His conscience was flashing WARNING! WARNING! STOP WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD! But Ben ignored it, too fueled by anger and confusion to care what came out of his mouth.

"Quite easily" He began walking the perimeter of the living room, inspecting what was on the shelves and walls. "I just open my mouth and words come out. Some call it speaking."

She didn't say anything. Didn't find it the least bit amusing. Which was fine. He was trying to be condescending anyway.

As his gaze roamed around her place, his eyes zeroed in on the cello next to the sofa. He went to it before he even had the conscious awareness that his legs were moving.

There was a mild ache in his head, but it wasn't substantial enough to make him rub his temples or take medication. The sensation was akin to walking into a room and completely forgetting why you were there and what you needed. Trying to remember was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands: frustrating and unlikely.

As he got closer to the instrument, Ben could almost hear what it would sound like if he were to drag the bow across the strings. Heaven – it would sound like heaven, he just knew.

Like how he just knew Rey's real name was Lorraine.

Since a young age, Ben had always been drawn to the smooth and deep sound of the cello. Didn't know why. It was like time stopped and had no meaning whenever he heard it being played.

During sophomore year of high school, he had given it a go at trying to learn the instrument, but he didn't have the talent for it. Nonetheless, he remained enthralled. He studied its history and listened to prominent cellists – like Luigi Boccherini and Yo-Yo Ma – on repeat.

The reddish-brown varnish of the wood on this particular cello had aged over time, evidenced by how the lower half gradually darkened to the point it was almost black. A rich patina and vivid traces of use clearly indicated that this was an instrument with a long history of being played frequently and with great gusto.

He knelt down, peering through the f-hole to the inside, reading the faded text. It was made in Cremon in 1720 by–

He straightened, head snapping to Rey. "Is this… was this made by Antonio Stradivari? Is this an original?"

"I'd prefer you didn't get close to it. Actually, I'd like you to leave."

"Do you know how much one of these is worth?" He openly balked at her, glancing at the cello. "Twenty million. At least." And for being so old, it was in excellent condition.

But Rey didn't even bat an eyelash. "It's not for sale."

Ben flinched. _Well fine,_ he snidely thought. _Don't get rich…. Probably a fake anyway._

But part of him didn't think so.

He kept perusing the living room – his eyes still flitting over to the cello, wanting to lock it away somewhere safe – and found her decorating style to be… chaotic. Taking up one of the walls was an antiquish brown map of America, painted on canvas and dated 1911. Strewn across the shelves were random decorations: a black typewriter, oil lamps, ornate pottery, glass candy dishes and decanters, and early 20th century dolls. There was even a whole section of shelving that held all sorts of metal and glass door knobs, rusted and golden hinges, and corroded keys.

His eyes fell upon a miniature of Lady Justice, holding the scale in which the law was measured. It was the symbol of his profession.

Ben glanced at Rey. She was watching him intently, face tight.

His foot bumped into the couch. The long sofa was of the American Federal style, similar to the one his uncle had in his study, but made with dark mahogany wood and white upholstery. Bird motifs were carved into the wood, the crest molding at its center showing two stylized phoenixes rising from the ashes.

It didn't look comfortable; it looked downright impractical.

Ben's gaze did one last sweep around the space.

Where the fuck was he? Did he step through a portal that propelled him back to the 1900's? Maybe the 1800's? What kind of person collected all this useless shit? Except the cello. God, that cello was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Ben desperately wanted to hear it be played. He also wanted to reprimand Rey for having it in the living room like it was another piece of furniture. Something like that needed to be kept in a weather-controlled display case and away from the humidity.

The only modern thing in the room was the 40'' TV, which just so happened to be perched on a wooden accent chest, the kind that had different sized drawers painted in contrasting colors.

"You like living in a fucking museum?" Ben asked. "A lot of blast-from-the-past vibes going on in here."

"Can you please leave already?"

He swung his eyes back to hers. "Not till I get some answers."

"I don't have any."

"Don't fucking lie to me," Ben clipped out harshly. Rey winced.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. The woman was visibly fearful of him. In order to placate her, he sat and immediately found that he was right about the couch: it was intolerable to sit on. But there he remained, trying to make himself look less intimidating.

The sound of a cat meowing made him look around, the orange feline in question jumping right onto his lap.

Rey marched over. "BB, no. You can't just jump on–" She came to a complete standstill between Ben and the TV.

The cat started purring, nudging at Ben's hand with his nose and pleading for a head scratch. Ben obliged. The feline melted under his touch and curled itself into a ball on Ben's thighs. The fact that it was shedding on his suit didn't bother him too much; he needed to take it to the dry cleaners, anyway.

Ben didn't mind the animal. He had a soft spot for cats, actually. Most people saw him and assumed dogs were more his thing. But no. He loved felines for their superior and snooty attitude, which was contradicted with their need to be coddled and loved.

He appreciated the enigma of their personalities.

"Are you not even curious what I told you back at the office?" he asked, his fingers massaging the top of the cat's head. "That I've been having hallucinations of a woman who looks exactly like you?"

Rey composed herself, getting over the shock of her cat canoodling with a stranger. "Sounds like you should see a doctor for that."

A small, mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "I have. All the meds I'm on seem to do jack shit in stopping them."

"Maybe I look similar to whoever –"

"You look and sound exactly like her. The eyes, the face, the hair – everything. And I want to know why."

She crossed her arms over her chest, jaw tight. "You need to lea–"

"How do you know me?"

"From the company."

His gaze narrowed. "No. You didn't talk to me like I was your superior."

"I thought you were someone I once knew," she said through clenched teeth, hands balling into fists.

He scoffed. "You fuck every man who looks like me upon meeting them? What would your husband thin–"

"My husband is dead!" Rey suddenly screamed, like all her bottled up frustration had finally burst from the pressure. Ben took a mental step back, the words not translating into a comprehensible meaning fast enough. "Alright? There. Happy? I'm a widow. You didn't have sex with a married woman. Congratulations. Now get out."

Silence, except for Rey's heavy breathing.

They held eye contact, her stare switching between contempt and yearning. It was all very confusing, how she would look at him like he could soothe her suffering, but then demand him to leave her presence.

"Why didn't you just say that right from the get-go?"

Rey closed her eyes, sighing. "Because I don't like saying it out loud. Hold it against me, whatever. Just please," she motioned to the door. "Leave."

Call him heartless, but using the fact that her husband was six feet below ground wasn't enough to get Ben out the door. "Not until you tell me why I've been seeing you."

Rey groaned, like a child not getting what they wanted. "I told you, I don't know."

Ben ground his molars a couple times, on the precipice of losing it like she had only moments ago. "You do."

"I don't."

He could feel his voice getting loud, but he couldn't stop it. "How do you know me?"

The cat, recognizing that the exchange was starting to become heated, went to the floor and scurried away.

"I don't know you!" she yelled, pleading in her face for him to believe her.

Ben went to his feet. "Stop fucking lying to me. Stop it."

Her nostrils flared. "Maybe you are crazy. Maybe you should be locked up and kept away from normal peo–"

He got right in her face, startling her. "Don't say that to me. Ever!" The tendons in his neck protruded, face going red. "I have my issues, but at least I didn't fuck someone so soon after losing a spouse. You look like you're seventeen, so I'm guessing you weren't married for too long."

"Shut up," Rey growled, lips thin.

But Ben kept going. "What kind of a heartless bitch does that? You probably didn't even love him. I bet you were happy once he died so you could go around and fuck whoever you wanted without the consequences or guilt."

"Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth," Rey seethed as she grabbed his arm, trying to pull him to the door. "Get out!"

Her strength surprised him, but it wasn't enough to get him to move. "I'm not lea–"

She pulled at him again, more harshly this time. "GET OUT! GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Ben tugged himself free of her, but he put too much of his own strength behind it. He stumbled back, hands flying out to find purchase. His hand collided with something hard, and then her cello crashed to the ground, face down. The telltale sound of splintering and something breaking filled the air.

For a moment, neither moved.

_Shit, shit, shit._

A mangled cry came from Rey as she knelt beside the instrument. "No, no, no, no, no…" she whispered, carefully turning the cello over.

Pieces of wood lay beneath, small casualties of their fight. Rey picked them up, holding them as if they were an injured baby bird. The bridge, the small wooden part that held the strings up between the fingerboard and tailpiece, was what had broken. There were small dents in the actual cello where the bridge had been, the impact having driven the piece into the wood.

If this really was a Stradivarius cello… Ben couldn't even fathom the thought.

He neared her, ready to pay for the damages. "I can–"

"Please," she muttered, eyes tightly shut. The pain in her voice… Ben felt that go right through his chest. "I'm begging you… please, just go away."

In the silence, as Rey's head hung low and her shoulders shook, something changed deep inside of him. Gone was the anger and the fear and the panic. It all disappeared as if it had never been. In its place?

Agony.

Agony had entered his heart without the decency of even knocking first. Just rammed itself right into that muscle, coursing through his blood, infecting his brain. For a moment, he didn't understand where it was all coming from, how his emotions could shift so suddenly that it almost made his knees give out.

Then, clarity.

This suffering, this bereavement… it was Rey. It was all coming from Rey. He couldn't make it stop, couldn't shut off that part of himself that became so in tune with people's emotions.

God, she felt all this?

It was like his brain and heart were being shredded from the inside, emotional pain flowing out of every pore. The hand of grief gripped tightly around his chest, his breaths coming out shallow and sporadic.

Was all this pain over the cello? A person? Perhaps her dead husband?

In a voice that did not sound like his own, he heard himself say, "I didn't mean to… I didn't–"

Her sudden sobs had a rawness to them that stopped him from talking, like the pain was still an open wound and her lungs could no longer hold the affliction inside.

It was difficult, looking at her. Watching her succumb to such visceral sorrow. Ben's eyes swept over the room–

He caught his reflection in the mirror that hung above the TV. Hair unkempt, face flushed, eyes bloodshot, he was a mess. Much like… much like back then. Back when his life was one black hole after another, each sucking him further into addiction and rage and apathy.

Ben took a step back. A second. A third.

He wasn't that person anymore. He wasn't. And yet, in the mirror, he saw _him_.

His stare went to Rey, realizing what he'd done to her – barging into her apartment, yelling, making her uncomfortable and hurting her. It had all been driven by the need for her to validate he wasn't crazy; that there was an explanation for all the things he could see and do.

That reasoning didn't seem all that important now. Not when it drove him to become the man he swore he'd never be again.

Letting himself out, Ben hurried down the four flights of stairs and shoved the door open. He chose a direction at random, too overwhelmed to make a coherent decision or to realize that he left his glasses behind.

Within moments, he saw it, one of those inky shadows looming over a woman who passed him by. But he wouldn't go back to that apartment. Couldn't.

His stare went down to the sidewalk.

Ben's heart was pounding and his head was swimming. Mostly, he was aware of the terror once again, all stemming from the belief that the control he had over his sanity had hopped on a bus with a one-way ticket to Nowheresville. Would there ever be a reprieve from feeling that way? Like his head was popping up out of a proverbial ocean, gasping for a gulp of air before being battered under the water by incoming waves?

One of these days, he would drown. Hell, he was drowning right now.

But he wouldn't cry. No.

It was the biting wind that coaxed the tears to form in his eyes. Only the wind.

**A/N**

**I promise, things will get better between them. Well, until the truth of the past comes out and then it all becomes a rollercoaster. But I swear, Rey and Ben will become civil towards one another and then a relationship starts to form. But don't expect anymore smut for a while. I don't know if I can call this a slow burn since they had sex last chapter, but to me, it's a slow burn. lol. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! I'm sorry this update has taken so long. School is taking up a lot of my time now and I am also trying to finish my other wip, Orange Sky. Thank you so much for sticking with this story even though the updates are sporadic. But I want to let you all know that I will never not finish a story. I have too much experience with reading a fanfic only to have my heart ripped out because it was abandoned. I wouldn't do that to you guys.**

**Feathers: There is some fixing of Ben and Rey's relationship in this chapter. Like a second chance. Neither of them can stay away from each other for long! NoChaDaiSAlamander: We were corresponding through private message, but just wanted to say thank you again for you interest in this story and for the review! SpunkyBookworm: Thanks for liking it and for leaving a review!**

**So this chapter has more information about the world I'm trying to build, but it doesn't tell you everything just yet. Still some mystery! Who's ready for a long chapter? Cause this is a loooong chapter. lol.**

Chapter 5: Could We Start Over?

_Rose._

It was the solitary thought coursing through Finn's brain at the moment, her lovely name like a mantra in his head as he looked at her from across the theatre.

The stage crew and performers were all huddled in their own little groups, talking with each other or browsing through their phones. Some were eating while doing both. The community theatre was small, not even close to being on the scale of what you'd find on Broadway. It didn't even have chairs bolted into the floor, but rather opted to use round tables and chairs for the audience to sit and enjoy the food they ordered from the cabaret.

With the entire seating inventory still in storage – it wouldn't be set up till the day before opening night – it allowed everyone to stay on the main floor during a break. Admittedly, it was much more preferable than being back stage where space was very limited. So limited that there were canopies set up outside behind the building so the actors could have more room to spread out if need be.

Good thing space heaters had been provided; it was still quite chilly in the evenings since the weather was still transitioning into spring.

During the downtime, Finn would sometimes have conversations with the other members of the cast, but interacting with humans was still something he wasn't good at. They had the tendency of talking about their families or the latest drama at work or current world events Finn wasn't aware of. There was nothing about his life he could add to the discussions: he didn't have a family, couldn't bring up the drama he had with other Reapers, and current events weren't really a thing in his line of work.

He was an outsider with his face pressed up against the glass, looking in, never able to go inside.

Rose tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she talked with Jenna. Finn wondered what it would feel like to touch it. To touch her anywhere.

Rose wasn't beautiful in the modern commercial sort of way, no flowing gold curls or tanned skin; no round eyes of green or blue. She was an American of Vietnamese descent, was shorter than average – Finn suspected her height being around five feet – and had curves that catwalk models didn't possess. But in her entirety, Rose was stunning. Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible to both genders. Women courted her friendship and men desired her. It was obvious in the way they would look at her.

Finn never understood why Western culture idolized women who fit a certain height and weight. Each woman's uniqueness was what made her attractive. It was just Rose… Rose made Finn's heart race. And that was a first.

Rose's black hair of silk fell behind her shoulders as she laughed at something Jenna said. It was a harmonious sound, easy on the ears.

Finn would give anything to make Rose laugh like that.

"You're doing it again."

Finn turned to Rey, leaning against the waist high black wooden barricade that divided the ensemble from the audience. The music section was comprised of only a handful of instruments: cello, violin, base, piano, clarinet and a drummer with a full set. The band – Rey hated that it was called that and insisted on orchestra, because uppity _reasons_ – was small enough to be placed in the corner at the very back of the theatre. It wasn't the best location, but it was the only area that worked.

"What?" Finn asked.

Rey was the only member of the band currently there, the rest out being social or grabbing a quick bite to eat.

With her cello on its side by her feet, Rey glanced at him as she flipped through the pages of music. "You're watching Rose. Again."

"I'm not watching her," Finn weakly argued. "I was looking around and my eyes just so happen to see her." Rey gave him an I-know-you're-lying kind of look. "Fine," he relented. "I might have been watching her. Is that so bad?"

"Yeah, actually. It is." She made a mark on the music sheet with a pencil. "If people start noticing that you're constantly staring at her, they're going to think you're obsessed with her or something."

Reflexively, Finn looked over at Rose.

Rose's eyes scanned the room as Jenna kept talking. Her gaze met his and she smiled, raising her hand for a quick wave.

She had safe eyes, perhaps that was the best way Finn could describe it. Safe and warm.

And her smile, her smile was so beautiful it was like the stars themselves decided to laze behind the soft cushion of her lips.

Finn did an awkward half wave and forgot to even smile back, too shocked that she'd given him an ounce of her attention to think properly.

Did Rose chuckle? It looked like she had.

She gave him one more little grin before going back to her conversation with Jenna, the moment done and over.

"But what if I am obsessed with her?" Finn admitted softly, still watching Rose. She got so animated with her hands when she started speaking passionately. It was endearing, her passion.

Rey sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."

"What?" Finn spun all the way around, putting all his attention on Rey. He couldn't stop his tone from sounding defensive. "That I like someone?"

"You're basically a necro-wizard–"

"That's not a thing."

"– and not even human. Rose is. How would that even work?"

"First of all, my title is Reaper, not necro-wizard or whatever term you come up with."

"You hate being called a Reaper."

"The nicknames you give me are worse. And second, my plumbing down there works perfectly fine."

Rey's eyes went wide. "God, that's not what I meant." She placed the pencil on the stand. "I meant how would it work with dating and becoming exclusive and talking about your day with her? Are you going to tell her how you hunt down rebellious souls and drag them to the afterlife? That you don't age and you can't die?"

"Well… no. But I could… I don't know, figure it out."

"So you'd lie to her, then?"

Finn's expression soured over the idea. "When you put it like that, it sounds horrible." He took a deep breath. "I just… it's weird, this pull I feel towards her. I think about her constantly, even though I try not to. Just seeing her makes me smile and get all giddy. And I'm just… happy when I'm around her. I've never felt this kind of happiness before."

"You're attracted to her," Rey deduced.

Finn shook his head. "No, it's not just that. I know you think it is, but it's not. I've been a Reaper since 1822 and I've seen plenty of attractive women, believe me. But none of them held my attention and made me feel so… alive like Rose can. Sometimes I can't – I can't breathe properly unless I see her. I don't even need to talk to her; I just need to be able to catch a glimpse of her. I have to know she's doing okay and that she's happy and that her life is going well. I just… I need to know."

Rey crossed her arms over her chest, angling herself in her chair so she could face Finn head on. "I didn't know your feelings went that deep."

He placed his hands on top of the partition as he shrugged. "Yeah, well… now you know."

Rey glanced away from him, in the direction of Rose. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"If you decided to pursue her, you'd have to be careful."

"I know."

"If you get caught–"

"I know," Finn said again, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a huge risk."

Rey leaned a little closer, voice getting a little quieter. "Remember those stories you told me about those two Reapers who were caught being involved with a human and were never seen again? I don't want that happening to you."

He saw the fear in her eyes over the prospect of living her existence alone. "I don't want to vanish either," Finn told her. "Trust me."

"But you can't stay away from her?" Finn shook his head in the negative. "I was afraid that would be your answer."

Finn remembered the first time he saw Rose on the corner of 5th and Broadway, waiting to cross the street. He'd been out on assignment, invisible to the human eye. But when he heard her voice, talking to whoever was on the other end of the phone, he moved closer so he could see her.

She had mesmerized him immediately.

When the walking sign came on, Finn followed her for five whole blocks. It wasn't until she walked into a building that he realized he had completely forgotten about the soul he needed to be looking for. Or the fact that there were warm tears streaming down his face.

It had been difficult to make his feet move across the concrete and go back the way he came. He didn't want to be away from her.

The only thing that gave him comfort was remembering a curious piece of information from her phone conversation: She was auditioning for a play later that week at a community theatre called Curtain Call. From there, Finn devised a plan that led both Rey and him to be a part of the show.

He didn't even think his audition had gone all that well – hours of watching YouTube videos about acting gave him a small foundation to work off of, but by no means was he great at it – but they must have seen something in him since they offered him the role of Dr. Edward Armstrong.

Rey didn't even need much convincing to try out for the ensemble. She felt the most at peace with a cello in her hands. And even though she'd never admit it, being in the theatre made her feel closer to Ben. Finn couldn't even count how many shows Rey had dragged him to throughout the years. The woman basically lived on Broadway whenever they resided in Manhattan.

During Rey's audition, the conductor, Carol, heard her play for ten seconds and immediately offered her a spot. Which was good, because Finn literally couldn't do this without Rey. Participating in the human world was strictly against the rules for all Reapers. But his orders to keep a close eye on her allowed him a free pass in that regard.

It had all miraculously worked out. But if it hadn't? The thought of never seeing Rose again, of just cutting himself out of her life…. Why did that strike him as such a tragedy?

"This is what humans would classify as a dilemma," he stated.

Rey nodded in agreement, her eyes becoming distant as her gaze drifted toward the stage. It wasn't hard to guess what was on her mind; it had been only mere hours ago that she had that confrontation with Ben.

God… there was still so much Rey didn't know. So much Finn wasn't allowed to tell her. If she knew how much he'd been keeping from her… decade after decade, keeping silent… she'd never want to see him again.

And the thing was… Finn feared being alone, too. He needed her just as much as she needed him. Before Rey, his existence had been one-dimensional. Robotic. Bland. After, it was like he was almost living. Like his heart actually had a function.

"How are you doing?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Fine."

As in she wasn't.

"That bad, huh?"

The curve of her lips was more morose than jolly. "I guess we both have dilemmas to deal with. Though, the stakes for me don't involve being erased from existence."

_Maybe not,_ Finn thought. But after coming back to the apartment after Ben had left and that mind spell lifted – _damn Celestials and their overpowering abilities. Good thing Rey didn't know what she was capable of_ – Finn was distraught to see Rey curled up and weeping next to her dented cello. The whole situation was mentally tearing her apart.

"I'd still rather be in my shoes than yours," Finn said. "Your dead husband shows up out of the blue, has no memory of the past, and he's been hallucinating you? And on top of that, you had sex with him before hashing all that out? I don't know how I would deal."

Rey sighed. "I'm doing life like everyone else: one poor decision at a time and a trash can full of wine bottles."

"Yeah… so, it's the 21st century and you really should start recycling those. And why even bother drinking? It's not like alcohol can affect you."

"I know that, but I do it anyway, hoping..." She trailed off. "What do you think I should do?"

Finn had feared that question from her all day.

He knew his orders: push Rey to get closer to Ben. The directive came straight from House Organa and was not to be ignored. It was the only reason Finn got a huge pass when it came to interacting with humans and having a minimal workload – his sole mission was to stay with Rey and send daily reports on what she was doing.

And Rey had no idea.

She didn't know that the reason Finn had tried to make them move out to Southern California ten years ago was to get Ben and Rey to meet. Didn't know that his job was to keep an eye on her. Didn't really know why he stayed with her after they first met.

While crossing paths with her had been completely by chance, everything else that followed wasn't.

It had happened during the early summer of 1926 in Chicago, the evening abnormally hot and sticky from the heat wave plaguing the city. He'd been lingering in the outdoor market, following a lead on a particular spirit who was haunting the area when he caught sight of her. She'd been covered in dirt, looking like a nomad with no place to go, wandering the streets as if she no longer had a purpose. Or cared.

They locked eyes. She didn't move. So he went to her.

Not a single Reaper, nor Angel, were allowed to converse with her, a rule that was implemented by Leia Organa. But Finn took one look at her and none of the repercussions had mattered to him.

He had listened to her side of things, even though he already knew the broad details. Who didn't? The story of what had happened with her and Ben had shocked the seraphic community. Two Celestials killed during their time on earth and one of them ended up being executed for orchestrating the murder of the other? Unheard of. Unspeakable. Everyone knew that Ben and Rey's souls had manifested from the same imploding star, a phenomenon that had never occurred in existence. One supernova rendered only one soul, that's how it had always been. And yet, one betrayed the other.

Rey and Ben were two halves of the same energy, connected on a level no one could truly understand. Maybe not even them. Not fully.

When Finn had been caught mingling with her, he expected some form of punishment to befall him. Instead, Leia Organa had decided that keeping someone close to her and knowing what Rey was up to was more beneficial than leaving the girl to her own devices.

Even after decades of Rey not doing anything noteworthy, Leia Organa still viewed her as enemy number one. But she was willing to use the girl in hopes that her presence in Ben's life would help him regain his memories, giving her the answers as to where his soul had been after he had died.

Rey was a pawn. And that frustrated Finn to no fucking end.

As he looked at Rey, her eyes searching his, waiting for advice, Finn knew he couldn't be true to his assignment. No one else had held this woman as she cried; no one else had listened to her story with a kind ear; no one else cared for her like Finn had.

Screw the rules. What Rey needed right now was a friend.

He scratched at his brow with his thumbnail. "Honestly? I don't know. I mean, it's a very tough situation to be in. I don't know if there's a right way to handle it. But sometimes going with your gut can help. That's what humans say, anyway."

She nodded her head slowly, digesting what he said. "Do you think he's really Ben?"

Finn would do his best to protect her, but he wasn't going to lie. Not about this. "You know... I do. I really think he's _your_ Ben. How else can you explain him knowing your birth name and having those visions of you? It's him, Rey… and I think you know that."

"But he doesn't remember me. Why doesn't he remember me?" She posed the question as if Finn was the one who held the answer.

"I don't know." Really, he didn't. No one did. "Maybe, somehow, you could help him remember." _For your sake_, he thought. _Not for anyone else._

Fear shone in her eyes. "But then I'll have to explain what I–"

"Hey guys." Rose appeared right next to Finn. "What's going on? Some band gossip?"

Rey really needed to cool it with the sharp looks whenever anyone used the word 'band' in reference to the music section. Luckily, Rose didn't seem to notice.

As Rose's stare rested on him, Finn tried to look at her like he was focusing on her in a professional way, one performer to another, someone who was a friend. But there was an undercurrent of a push-pull feeling between them that he couldn't deny.

Words fell out of Finn's mouth before he could stop them. "Nothing. Nothing's going on. We're not talking about anything. Nope. All good here."

What was it about attraction that turned people into bumbling fools? No, really, Finn needed to know so he could stop doing it every time Rose talked to him.

Rose's face fell. "If you don't want me here while you're talking to Rey, you can just say so."

"What? No, no, no. That's – that's not what–"

Rose's grave demeanor cracked with a smile as she smacked his shoulder. The fact that she touched him at all nearly made him collapse. "I'm just fucking with ya. Have you guys seen Poe? I had a question I needed to run by him."

"I haven't," Rey responded.

Rose looked to Finn, expecting a reply. "Probably out taking a smoke break or something." He didn't even try to hide the derision in his tone.

Rose quirked a brow. "You don't like Poe, do you?"

It wasn't that he hated the guy. They'd barely said three words to each other. But having an Angel suddenly pop up for the purpose of keeping an extra eye on Rey – and probably Finn by extension – irked him to no end.

He'd rather have a fellow Reaper as a babysitter. Angels were just so… _pretentious._ They carried themselves like they were better than everyone else, just because they forwent experiencing mortality to serve the Celestial Houses. And everyone knew that Poe was the most loyal and trusted Angel of Leia Organa – which probably gave him a huge superiority complex and a ton of freedom to do whatever he wanted. It made the guy unpredictable.

Finn shrugged. With great effort, he kept his voice even. "He comes off as a bit of a know-it-all. Like, he's the lighting tech, but he keeps undermining D'Acy all the time like he knows more than her or something."

"And do we even know why Poe replaced Sean a couple weeks ago?" Rey asked. "It was so out of the blue."

"I guess Rick texted him and the only thing Sean told him was that he got a better offer to work somewhere else," Rose explained.

What Sean no doubt believed to be a stroke of good luck, was actually Angels orchestrating a way to get one of their own closer to Rey.

"God, Rick…" Rey shook her head. "I can't believe he broke both his legs in an accident this morning."

"None of us can," Rose agreed with a frown. "I heard he's lucky to be alive. The car accident was pretty bad. And D'Acy is having one helluva time trying to figure out who can play Lombard. Next to Vera, his character survives till the end and has a lot of lines."

It definitely put Rose in a tight spot, since she was the one playing Vera.

Rose continued. "I overheard her talking to Spencer earlier about switching roles and then finding someone else to be Marston, since Marston is barely in the play. But Spencer doesn't want to do it. She even called some of the people who auditioned, but they're too busy."

"That's awful luck," Rey commented.

"That's community theatre for you." Rose blew out a breath. "We're all volunteers and don't have understudies. But I think I might have a solution. I have a friend coming here tonight to visit me who actually studied acting at Juilliard. I told D'Acy about him, and she said she would love to meet him. Seeing how we open next Friday, she needs to find someone, like, yesterday."

"Wow," Finn said. "He graduated from Juilliard?"

Rose's hand movements became increasingly flighty. "Well... he wasn't able to graduate because of some extenuating circumstances. But he's super talented. Or, I mean, the last time I saw him in a show, he was amazing. It's been a while since he's done anything, but I'm sure it'll all come back to him super quick."

"That's really nice of him to take the role a week and a half before opening night." Rey sounded impressed. "I would never do something like that. That's barely any time to practice."

"Yeah… so…" Rose was having a hard time looking at them. "He actually doesn't know anything about this."

Finn's head flinched back. "You haven't told him?"

"I just found out about Rick an hour ago along with the rest of you. And if he knew, he might not–" Rose's phone buzzed. She answered it immediately. "Hey, where you at?" She gave Finn and Rey a quick wave as she hurried toward the lobby. "Oh, Google Maps never sends you to the right location, you need to…."

Rose was out of sight.

"Guess her friend is almost here," Rey said.

"I hope he agrees to do it. D'Acy looks a bit… overwhelmed."

Rey and Finn both looked over at the woman. She was currently sitting on the edge of the stage, holding onto her coffee mug with both hands as she stared intently at the floor. She clearly wasn't relaxed – shoulders tense, jaw tight, and her upper body was slightly rocking back and forth.

No one dared to bother her.

Actors and stage crew mulled about, the whole production stuck in a sort of limbo until the whole Lombard situation could be figured out. With the break getting longer and longer, some of the cast took it upon themselves to run lines or work on a scene. But Finn stayed put, listening to Rey go off about a part of the music she thought could be written better. Seeing how he didn't really understand what she was talking about, Finn just nodded and agreed.

Suddenly, Rey stopped talking, eyelids peeling back as she gazed at something over his shoulder.

"Finn, Rey," Rose said from behind. Finn turned… and found that all he could do was stare.

Ben.

Rose's friend was… Ben?

… _for fuck's sake._

"This is my friend I was telling you about," Rose continued, unaware of the tension growing within the group. "Ben, this is Finn and Rey. You guys, this is Ben."

There were no _how are you doing_s or _nice to meet you_s being passed around. Nothing was said. Ben didn't even move. If it weren't for him wearing those dark sunglasses, he would've been way more readable. He sure was being very still, though.

Rose's eyes darted to each of them, finally noticing the strain. Just as she opened her mouth, a masculine voice cut in.

"Ben?" They all looked to the stage. Poe hopped off the platform, coming over to them with a grin that stretched ear to ear.

"Poe?" Ben said after a beat.

Poe brought Ben in for a hug. Ben's arms remained at his sides. "Holy shit, man. I haven't seen you in for-fucking-ever." Poe pulled back. "What, since the hospital in Germany?"

"That's the only place you've ever seen me," Ben grumbled.

"Wait... you know Ben?" Rose asked.

Poe clapped Ben on the shoulder, his palm staying there. Ben didn't even try hiding his discomfort. "I was a PA at LRMC in Germany. This guy was one of the patients I was assigned to."

Finn blinked in surprise. He didn't know the Angel had been with Ben overseas.

"Oh." Rose looked between the two men. "I didn't…. I've never met any of the men Ben served with."

"Because most of them are dead," Ben said bluntly. "And Poe and I didn't serve together. He worked at the hospital."

Poe's joyous expression fell away, his hand slipping from Ben's shoulder.

Nobody knew what to say after that. Finn wasn't sure Rey was even tracking the conversation. She was zoned out.

D'Acy made an appearance next to Rose, her voice cutting through the very awkward lull. "Rose, is this the friend you were talking about?"

"Uh, yeah, this is Ben Solo. Ben, this is the director of the play, Larma D'Acy."

"It's so good to meet you." D'Acy held out her hand. Ben shook it briefly, his hands covered in black leather gloves. He didn't return her smile. If D'Acy thought it odd for the man to be wearing sunglasses and gloves, she didn't show it. Or her desperation made her blind to it. "I can't tell you enough how grateful I am for you willing to take Rick's spot. I mean, thank God he's alive, but with him no longer able to play Lombard, I've been panicking trying to figure out what to do. And Rose told me you studied theatre at Julliard, which is quite impressive."

Finn could pinpoint the exact moment Ben's brain short-circuited. It was all in his tense body language.

D'Acy's eyes darted around as she got closer to Ben, lowering her voice as if she didn't want a lot of outside ears to hear the next part.

"I won't lie to you; at this point, I'm desperate. If you want the part, it's yours. Rose told me that you always had a knack for memorizing lines quickly, and that your talent for acting is above average. And I trust Rose's judgment. If you're available, we can have you jump right into practice tonight. At least go through the script. Are you familiar with Agatha Christie's book _And Then There Were None_?"

Ben didn't say anything. Finn wasn't even sure the guy was still breathing. Then – "Excuse me." Quick legs took him to the lobby and no doubt out the front entrance.

Rose was already on her way to get him, talking over her shoulder to D'Acy. "He… he's just overwhelmed. Let me go talk to him and we'll be right back, I swear!"

D'Acy wandered after her, but stopped next to the light booth, a deep frown overtaking her features.

Finn locked eyes with Poe. Both men nodded, regarding the other's existence before Poe disappeared backstage.

This... was not how Finn was expecting tonight to go.

Left alone with Rey, Finn focused on her. Whatever she was thinking, he couldn't read it on her pale face. "I'm sure he's not going to do it," he assured her. Though, if he did, it would mean the production was saved and Finn could keep seeing Rose. "Did you see how he reacted? Like a deer in the–"

Rey stood, careful not to knock over the cello at her feet. "I need some air." She passed the barricades and hurried across the stage, probably wanting privacy at the back of the building.

Finn stayed where he was. Thinking.

How in the hell did Angels swing it that Ben ended up coming to _this_ theatre? Had they really gone so far as to hurt a human – causing Rick's accident – and opening up a way for Ben to take the part? But that didn't make any sense because of Rose. Ben would've never came down here if it weren't for her. And she wasn't an Angel. Just a human.

Could all this actually be fate?

()()()()()

As Ben rushed outside, he gasped for air as if he had just emerged from the depths of an ocean, starving for oxygen, lungs burning. But even with the sudden burst of adrenaline, his feet slowed and he felt the bile rising in his throat.

He needed… he needed a drink. No amount of dum dums could quell the rising panic and anger. This required whiskey – Glenfiddich 15-year-old Distillery Edition Single Malt Scotch Whiskey, to be exact.

He might be an alcoholic, but he had standards.

It had only been a couple hours since he pulled himself together after that run in with Rey this morning, but just like that, he teetered again, spiraling into a neurotic mess and coming down with the shakes because all he wanted was a fucking _drink._

His hands scratched through his hair on repeat, probably making him look like that guy from the Ancient Aliens meme.

How could Rey be here?

How could Rose do this to him?

Fortunate for him, since the theatre was situated at the end of a quiet road, no one was outside to witness his frazzled state. Not that it mattered. He couldn't care what anyone thought of him at the moment.

Ben stood a few feet from the double doors, two large gardens on either side of the walkway, benches lining the perimeter. Not knowing what he should do. If he went home… could he resist temptation? Maybe he should go to a meeting. Or hit up his sponsor, even though she was back in Los Angeles. But Bazine always told him that no matter the time or situation, that he should call her if–

The doors creaked.

He wheeled around, knowing who it was before he set eyes on her.

"What the fuck, Rose," Ben bit out, wisps of loose hair falling in his face.

Palms up, she spoke with careful intent. "I know. I know this is a lot and–"

"Did you fucking trick me into coming down here? For this?"

"No. I swear. I didn't find out about Rick till an hour ago, but... you were already coming here and I thought…." her voice lost momentum, her face falling with the realization of what she had done.

"You thought… what?" Ben prompted. Rose looked away. "Jesus, Rose. You know how I feel about all this shit," he pointed to the theatre. "Being here is a reminder of being a fucking failure and all the bad memories that go along with it."

"Then make some good memories," Rose implored. Ben scoffed, pushing his hair out of his face. "Right here. Ben, you're too talented not to get on stage ever again. And I know it kills you not to do it."

"I'm perfectly fine with being a lawyer," he retorted.

"Bullshit. You're great at your job and I'll admit, you being a lawyer has helped me out a lot in my life. But your passion is for acting; not for looking over contracts."

Ben wasn't sure of his expression. It was hard to focus past the ringing in his ears. Whatever he looked like, it was enough to ease Rose into nearing him.

"Ben, I know it's been a long time since I've seen you in anything, but when I did… God, it was beautiful. You made me laugh and cry and hate you all within a single performance. There's something so real and relatable about you when you become a character. You need to share that with an audience. Hell, the entire world. You could be an actual star."

He shook his head, his tone losing it's angry sting. "I didn't pursue acting to become famous."

"No, you did it for yourself. And that's why you're so talented."

"Don't–"

"You are. Don't even try arguing with me."

Ben plopped down onto a bench. "Whatever, none of that matters anyway. What happens when I get on stage without my sunglasses and see one of those fucking shadows? What if I touch someone and –." He didn't want to think about it. "These things I can do and see are disabilities. It limits what I can do."

"Fuck that." Rose sat next to him. "Your abilities have power over you because you give them power over you. Embrace yourself for who you are."

A chuckle escaped through his nose. "Easier said than done."

"Well, you gotta start somewhere. Why not here? Baby steps, Ben."

There was a long pause. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. "Rose... I can't do this."

But 'this' had nothing to do with his abilities, and all to do with the fact he hadn't flexed his acting muscles in over a decade.

Rose picked up on what he was implying as she stared up at him with eyes that were filled with compassion and understanding. "Hey, this isn't Hollywood or Broadway. This is a small community theatre. Don't think about it as an obstacle, look at it as an opportunity."

There was another long silence. The background noise of Brooklyn traffic rose to fill the void.

He took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes between his forefinger and thumb. "What if I can't remember how to perform."

"You'd never forget something like that. And it's okay to want this, Ben. Stop punishing yourself for something you did over a decade ago."

"I almost killed a student in my class. He wasn't like the man who took you when you were younger. He was an innocent person. Something like that doesn't just leave you."

"You've paid your dues."

"Says who?"

"Says me." She stared at him more closely. "What does Kylo think?"

Ben hung his sunglasses from the collar of his sweater. "I've been blocking him all day."

"All day? You must be exhausted. I know it takes a lot of effort to shut him out."

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. A small part of him was worried over Kylo's long absence. And Ben hated how troubled he felt over it, wondering if he had pushed Kylo so deep into his subconscious that he couldn't get out.

He shouldn't be worried over that annoying piece of shit.

He _shouldn't._

Rose's legs swung back and forth, her petite stature making it so her feet couldn't touch the ground. "Did you have a rough day at work?"

_Fucking understatement._

"Something like that."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Later."

"Okay." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Just so you know, it means a lot to me that you came down here to see me, that you put in that effort. I'm sorry… for bombarding you with this. I'll tell D'Acy that the play won't work with your schedule or something." She went to her feet, trying to placate him with a soft smile. "Don't worry about it."

She went for the door just as Ben caught movement out of his periphery. His eyes reflexively bounced to it, seeing that Rey had rounded the corner of the building. Their stares locked. She stopped, surprised, then hurried back the way she came, out of sight.

The next three words that came out of his mouth surprised Ben just as much as they surprised Rose. "I'll do it."

Rose's hand lingered on the handle as she looked over at him. "What?"

_Yeah, what?_ he thought.

But… Rey was here. She was here and if he did this, they would see each other every night and during matinees and she couldn't run from him. Ignore him, maybe. But even then, he might be able to wear her down after apologizing to her at least three million times.

Also… he missed acting so fucking much. It was hard to admit, but he wanted this. Deserved it? Nope. But he was tired of punishing himself.

"I'll do it. Tell D'Acy that I'll do it. Just…" His gaze flickered to where Rey had been. Somehow, he could feel that she was still over there, hiding. "Can I have a few minutes alone?"

Rose had actual tears in her eyes as she hurried to him and gave him a hug. He patted her back. Even though she was the only person who could get away with giving him this kind of affection, it was still a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm so proud of you, Ben." She wiped at her eyes. Jesus, this really meant a lot to her. "And don't worry. I'll help you figure this out. I'll be there for you every step of the way."

The second Rose left him alone, Ben sprang to his feet and went to the side of the building. Rey was facing away from him.

He said her name.

As she turned, Ben gasped before he could hide his reaction, taken with just how beautiful she was. Her features were fine and feminine to the point of being delicate, her brows long and natural and perfectly balancing her face. Her bow shaped mouth and pinpoint nose were faultless, her shoulder length hair holding soft waves that begged for the touch of his fingers.

She was… otherworldly. Perfection. Almost unreal.

And her eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

He was somewhat aware that he had taken off his gloves, bunching them into his pockets.

There was still that temptation to act like he had earlier – being harsh and getting in her face, pressuring her until she cracked. It sickened him to even consider doing that. He hated Ben of the past almost as much as he hated his cursed abilities.

But he wanted answers.

Could he be patient? It wasn't a virtue he's really cultivated, because doing so in and of itself required, you guessed it,_ patience_. But… he did know how to manipulate. Over the next month, he could subtly guilt her into making a confession without her even realizing it. It could work.

And it could end up hurting her in the end.

They stared back at each other, just taking in the other person.

He wanted to take her in his arms. Protect her from anything and everything. The urge was so strong, it pained him to deny it.

After all, they were virtually strangers.

()()()()()

Ben had said her name… and then proceeded to say nothing after that.

Rey was twisting her fingers so hard, it was a wonder they didn't pop off the sockets. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything. I went out the back door and was locked out and I guess no one could hear me knocking so I came to the front thinking you probably already left and…." Her rambling died on her lips.

It was a while before Ben said anything. In the silence, Rey's brain turned the whole interaction into a multiple choice scenario of what he was going to do: A) Yell at her some more; B) Accuse her of being a liar; C) Toss around the word whore some more; or D)–

"The cello you have tonight… it's not the Stradivarius."

Okay…. Her D) had been along the lines of 'you're dead husband would be ashamed of you'. Or something like that. Not talk to her as if starting a civil conversation. "No. I never travel with it. I have a spare I bring to performances."

Ben shifted his weight between legs, stare going to the ground. "I'll pay for the damages on the cello–"

"You don't have to do that."

Those dark eyes lifted back to hers. "I need to."

"You really don't–"

"Please," he said softly.

With the way he delivered the appeal, his eyes silently pleading with her, Rey couldn't deny him. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

_Comfort him_, an inner voice told her. _He needs you close._

She bit at her lip and didn't move. Her arousal simmered under the surface, adding another layer of confusion to this whole interaction.

As Ben just stood there, Rey felt the need to cut through the silence. "I took the cello to a luthier I trust, and he'll be able to smooth out the dents. The bridge is the only thing that broke, but it was new anyways."

"It wasn't the original bridge?"

"No. I do still have it, but it wasn't made to last like the body of the cello was. Bridges rarely are."

Ben's throat constricted as he swallowed. "I… I'm so very sorry. I'm just… I'm sorry. For earlier."

"Oh," was all Rey could say. He looked so sincere.

Another round of silence.

During the quiet moment, he refused to look at her. Not because he seemed mad, though. It was more like he was finished with all the drama and the mystery between them. Like he was either giving up or wanting to move past it.

Rey couldn't tell which.

He ran a hand through his black hair. Rey admired his long fingers, perfectly manicured nails, remembering what it felt like to have him touch her… be in her.

_Ask him where he lives. Is it close by?_

"So…" Rey breathed out, putting her hands in the pockets of her red jacket so he wouldn't notice her trembling. "You're doing the play, then?"

He nodded. "And you're in the orchestra?"

"Yep."

"Guess we'll be seeing each other a lot."

_I could be seeing you a lot more at your place. Or mine._

_Stop it, _Rey scolded herself.

"Guess so," she was able to say through a tightening throat.

"I hope that doesn't bother you, since I was so… terrible this morning. Which I'm immensely sorry for. I'm sorry."

"How many times do you plan on apologizing to me?"

"The number is up there in the millions."

They both shared a chuckle. His sincerity was genuine, that much she could tell.

Both were having a difficult time trying to keep up the conversation, the moment laced with uncertainty. More on her part than his, Rey supposed. But for some reason, she didn't want to stop talking to him. Hearing his voice. Watching his expressive face.

Ben bit at his lip, and the subtle movement made her focus on his mouth. He had a really nice mouth – a full bottom lip, a round top, nice and red and perfectly pouty. She remembered how soft it felt–

"Look," he said, somewhat serious. "I'm not going to lie, it's difficult not to get in your face right now and demand that you tell me the truth. I'm sorry that I did that when we first met… but the urge to do it is still there."

Oh.

That made her forget all about his lips real quick.

"I don't–"

"Please don't lie," Ben said softly, like he was so very tired. "Please, just… stop embarrassing yourself by trying to lie to me. You're not very good at it. If you want to keep things to yourself... then there's nothing I can do about it, because I can't go back to being the person you dealt with earlier. I just can't fucking do it. I'm not going to ruin myself in an effort to get answers from you, answers you clearly don't want to give me. I'm exhausted, and I don't know if I'm mentally prepared to handle whatever the fuck is going on between us. When things get out of control, I'm more tempted to call it quits on my sobriety. And if that happens…. I don't like feeling like a failure; I don't want to start all over again. I don't think I can survive it like I did last time. So, how about we just tolerate each other from here on out."

_No!_ Rey internally wailed. _Throw your arms around him. Give him whatever he wants so he won't leave!_

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. It was like three people were having this conversation: Ben, her, and this inner voice that kept yelling at her to throw caution to the wind. The thing the inner voice didn't seem to realize was that if Rey gave Ben the truth, she'd lose him all over again. It wasn't even a maybe – he would leave her.

_Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd understand._

She just… she wanted to be with him so badly. She'd been without him for so long. Too long.

"Tolerate?" The word tasted bitter on Rey's tongue.

"You know, like if I see you at rehearsal, I'll ask you, "How are you doing?" and then you respond with, "I'm fine." Like two normal people would. Or people who are acquaintances. You think you can do that?"

_No._ "Yes."

"Great." He stared at her. She stared right back. "Well…" He motioned with his chin to the building. "I should–"

"Yeah, of course."

Watching him walk away from her was a punch to the gut she hadn't been anticipating. A metal baseball bat right to the abdomen couldn't have done it better.

Opening her mouth to call out to him, to stop him, she decided better of it.

That was it. Ben wanted nothing to do with her, and she couldn't do anything to change–

He stopped a foot from the front door. His eyes slowly moved in her direction before his head could catch up.

He looked unsure, as if he were fighting back saying something to her. "Can I have your number?"

Rey blinked. Then, not even caring about pride, she forwent using the sidewalk and climbed over one of the benches. She half-ran through the side garden, careful not to pummel any of the newly planted flowers or foliage. She stopped a little too close to him, aware of the way his eyes dragged along her body. But he didn't back away from her.

"You want my number?" she asked.

"Yeah…. So I can contact you about your cello."

"Oh." Rey placed a hand at the center of her chest as a dull ache abruptly flared into something she was all to familiar with – disappointment.

She had interpreted his question all wrong.

Ben eyed her movement, frowning. Rey lowered her hand, not meaning to have been so obvious with her feelings.

"You don't have to give it to me if you don't want to."

"No," Rey said a little to quickly. "No, it's fine. I don't mind."

Ben pulled out his phone, opening up his contacts so he could add her in. She told him her number, and she was close enough to watch him punch it in. And then he started on her name: Lorr–

He stopped. They locked eyes.

Her heart hammered so hard, she could feel it in her throat, in her head, behind her eyes. She lifted her hand and slid his phone from his grip… and finished typing in her name – Lorraine. She handed him back his phone. He just stared at it.

After a very long time, he whispered, "Are you toying with me?"

"No."

Ben closed his eyes and gripped his cell phone. Hard.

Before Rey could talk herself out of it – part of herself didn't want to look at the situation logically– she placed her palm over his fist, the one that was currently crushing the innocent mobile device.

His eyes snapped open, lips parting.

Her other hand got in on the action, her thumbs caressing his knuckles, eyes following the veins protruding from his skin. She brought it up to her lips and gave the back of his hand a lingering kiss.

Ben gasped… and moved closer to her. She didn't want to stop feeling him. She rubbed her cheek against his smooth skin, as if she were an animal seeking out a comforting touch.

"I don't want to just tolerate each other," Rey confessed. Taking a chance. Giving in. "I don't want to pretend like I don't want to be close to you or ignore what this is between us."

"I–" Ben stammered. Rey felt a weight atop her head. It was Ben's other hand, smoothing down her hair to her neck, repeating. "I had a plan. I had a…."

Rey shamelessly whimpered as his fingers tangled deep in her hair, nails scratching lightly at her scalp. "I'll tell you everything," she finds herself saying… and meaning it. His movements stopped. She looked up at him, not fearing the intensity of his gaze. "I'll tell you the truth… but I need time."

His throat contracted as he swallowed. "How much time?"

"I'm not sure. I… I did bad things. I made terrible mistakes that I'd give anything to take back, but I can't. The guilt… if it could, it would've killed me by now. And I would've let it."

"I can understand that." His eyebrows pulled down in concentration. "Regret. Guilt."

Her blinking quickened, trying to quell the moisture accumulating in her eyes. "I was such a horrible person." _To you_, she finished in her mind.

His hand rested gently on the nape of her neck, keeping her in place. "I know a thing or two about being a horrible human being."

"Not like this."

"Do I need to remind you about how I acted this morning? Whatever you've done, I've probably done it, too."

"I doubt it."

She was expecting him to back away, to tell her that he didn't want to waste his time–

Okay, wow. He was smiling at her. "Should we make this a competition? Who's done worse?"

God, his _voice._

She tried not to look like she was blushing. "I'd win."

"Pretty sure I'd win."

God, the dark hair, the soft eyes, his beautiful lips, the height and breadth of him… were exactly as she remembered. Maybe even better. Maybe even more attractive.

Breathless, she said, "In this situation, it's better to be the loser."

His fingertips started massaging the sides of her neck and the back of her hair. Her spine shivered. "That's not usually how a competition works."

Breathing deeply, her core twisting and fluttering, her eyes closed. Rey didn't mean to let out a moan. But she couldn't fight the impulse.

"You shouldn't do that," Ben growled, his breath spreading across her lips. He was close now.

She opened her eyes lazily. "Do what?"

"Make noises like that. It makes me want to…" He didn't need to finish that sentence. Rey felt it too, like the arousal blossoming between them had a pulse all it's own, connected to each of their hearts.

He pressed his lips to the little crease between her brows, and Rey… Rey wanted those lips somewhere else. Everywhere. It wasn't hard to imagine. Memories of Ben devouring her were still so sharp in her mind. Still so cherished.

Dragging his mouth back and forth across her forehead, it was such a tender motion. He exhaled. "How much time do you need? I hope you aren't thinking months."

How Rey was even able to speak was beyond her understanding. "Just weeks."

"Mmm…" His lips lingered on her forehead before he pulled back, his eyes hazy and filled with wanting. "Okay. Weeks I can do."

"And you'll... still talk to me in the meantime?" she asked quietly. "Not just ask me in passing how I'm doing?"

His head tilted to the side. "You want me to talk to you?"

"Yes. I would really like to get to know you, before…."

"Before what?"

She glanced away from him, stomach roiling. "After I tell you everything, you won't want anything to do with me."

"I know I don't look it, but I'm a pretty understanding person. How I acted when we first met… I know it's asking a lot, but can we put that behind us and start over? Can you give me a second chance?"

A second chance. Something Rey had dreamed about for herself – which was why she nodded. Allowing Ben to start over with her was something she hoped and prayed Ben would let her do with him.

That saying her mother always used to tell her popped in her head: Treat others the way you would like to be treated.

Rey would like to be treated with mercy.

Ben untangled himself from her, stepping back. Rey panicked at feeling the loss of his touch.

But then he stretched his hand out toward her, waiting. "Hi, I'm Ben Solo – lawyer and recovering asshole."

Rey lightly laughed. There was a charm about him that was becoming more and more evident.

Ben smiled. It was the same slow, quiet smile he used to give her, the kind that made her dizzy.

Rey slid her hand into his, feeling every molecule in her body align from just a simple touch. "I'm... Lorraine Kennedy. But I go by Rey."

"Rey," he said, like he was trying out her name. "It suits you more than Lorraine."

Rey grinned and nibbled at her lip. They were still shaking hands, neither of them wanting to cut off contact. "That's what the person said when he gave it to me."

Ben stopped moving his arm. "Was it your husband? Was he the one who gave you the nickname?"

_It was you. You gave me my name._ "Yes."

His hand fell away from hers, his demeanor shifting to something solemn. "Do you miss him?"

_You're right here._ "Yes." Ben looked to the ground, jaw tight. The moment between them had morphed into something… sad. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just… I can't help but wish that I was the one to call you that and not him." His eyes widened, as if realizing what he just said. Inhaling deeply, he sighed out the words. "It's stupid and insensitive to think. We barely know each other. I'm sorry for being inconsiderate toward your late husband's memory."

Rey wasn't sure how to proceed, seeing how Ben _was_ her late husband.

"Ben." Her hand was on his arm. He softened. Did he think she would be upset at him? "I'm more interested in moving forward than being stuck in the past."

He nodded, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. "Thank you." Rey looked into Ben's eyes. They were… beautiful eyes, a rich amber. Thickly lashed. Deeply set.

He reached for the door, opening it. "After you."

She bowed her head shyly and he followed her inside, all the while unaware that they had an observer.

Across the street in the parking lot, partly hidden behind a truck, the tip of a cigarette glowed a fiery red as Poe took a long drag.

**A/N**

**If you're still confused about what is going on, you're supposed to be. I haven't explained everything yet. It's all coming out in bits and pieces.**

**But hey, Ben and Rey seem to be headed in a much better direction, right? At least for now. Their relationship will be a bumpy one, but it will be worth it in the end. Gotta earn that HEA!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello dear readers! I know, it's been months since the last update and I am so sorry for that. You're probably thinking that I've given up on this story. I haven't! I still plan on finishing it. If you are reading Orange Sky, you probably know some of the reasons why this update has taken so long. TROS mentally ruined me for a bit when it came to Star Wars and writing. My muse up and left. But I am getting my mojo back, even though TROS still bothers me. But I don't want that movie to take away my love for writing fanfiction! Second, I put more focus on finishing the previous semester of school. Things got stressful there for a bit, but with summer break, I am planning on writing more. Third, I have been sewing a lot of face masks since this whole pandemic hit, trying to balance that with school. I still sew face masks, just not as many as in the beginning. Fourth, I was trying to also finish Orange Sky so I could put all my writing focus on this story. I have one more chapter left of that fanfic, but I thought I should update this one so you all know that I am still writing it and planning it out. It is always on my mind.**

**I know I usually respond to reviews, but I am just going to post the chapter so it is out there faster. Thank you to everyone who has left a review and lit a fire under my rear to get back to this story! I literally go back and read the comments to help me get motivation to write. It helps soooooooo much! I appreciate all of you who are still here reading, you have no idea.**

**This chapter is mostly a flashback, with a little bit of modern day at the end. It had gotten so long that I had to cut the chapter in half and I focused on editing this portion. **

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes in this chapter. Things do slip through, but I hope you can look past it to enjoy!**

Chapter 6: An Unquiet Mind

**London, 1909, Early Summer**

Lorraine's dripping entrancement with London was epitomized through her delight of everyone bustling about their activities, the carriages and motorcars bellowing along the dirt path, and street performers livening up the atmosphere with upbeat entertainment. Was London a bit dirty, as her mother's friends would say? Yes, probably more than a bit. But Lorraine didn't mind the clouds of exhaust from the automobiles or the churning of the dust that was thrashed into the air from the tires – all that could be ignored as she was whisked away on a magic carpet to a place more daring and passionate than what the rigidities of country life could offer.

Cities were where people truly _lived_, and where they were truly heard. She had read that in the _Daily Mail _just last week.

Bond Street had changed so much over the last five years. And Lorraine would know – it was a tradition for her family to visit the area after a night at the symphony or theatre. Over the past few years, more shops had opened, popularizing the block with those who had money to spend and time to squander.

But tonight, under the promises of a rare cloudless sky, the sun dimming as it began to set, Lorraine didn't walk the sidewalk with her parents.

She glanced up at Ben, eyeing the way the light of dusk cast a shimmering glow on his raven hair. One day, she would run her hands through it, fulfilling a deep desire to know if his tresses were as soft as they appeared to be. Questions like that should not be left unanswered.

Her stomach churned, twisting deeper into her gut. They were to marry in a little over two years – at which time, she would have to say goodbye to London and move to a country she'd only ever read about. Why couldn't they stay in England? Where she was comfortable? It was something she never had the courage to ask Ben. Mother told her that a wife followed her husband and his employment. But is that all her life would be? Following Ben around and tending to him like a wife should?

Her friend Charlotte was no doubt getting in her head again, giving Lorraine ideas. To say women were free to think for themselves and shouldn't be tied to a man's desires was a radical thing to believe. The union of man and wife was what a woman should aspire to have. But why did the man get to keep his title of 'man', while the woman was given the title of 'wife'? Seemed a bit too erasure on the woman's part.

But why think of such things? Two years was far away.

Lorraine's thoughts went to a happier, more agreeable place… like being so close to Ben.

Arm laced through the crook of his elbow, she sighed silently, a small smile playing across her lips.

Ben noticed her exhale. "I take it from your smile that you're happy with your performance tonight?"

She skipped giddily a few times, unable to restrain the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "It was like I was living a dream, to be able to be a guest performer for the London Symphony. It's something I've wanted since I was a little girl."

"And at the age of fourteen, you're one of the youngest to ever have such an honor," he admonished. "I heard so many people talking about you afterward, calling you a prodigy. A genius." His free hand came up to cover hers, giving it a squeeze. "I'm proud of you."

She couldn't keep eye contact with him, fearing his soulful stare would make her combust. "I don't know about any of those things. I just practice a lot."

He chuckled. "No need to be modest. You're very talented, Rey. There's nothing wrong with voicing it."

They had to squeeze their way through a thick group of people taking up most of the walkway, Ben glaring at one particular man who shoulder-shoved at Lorraine. But that was London for you.

Once the traffic pacified, Lorraine asked, "How do you think I did?"

The corner of his mouth ticked upward. "You were beautiful."

She rolled her eyes. "I meant my playing." Though the compliment made her stomach flutter.

He took a moment to answer, waving away a plume of dirt that was trailing a passing automobile. The fact he was mainly trying to clear the air in front of her rather than himself did not go unnoticed.

Ben cleared his throat. ""A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness." That's how I feel about you playing, and about who you are. The music you create will never not stop my heart."

Her chest warmed at his words, growing a little too hot. "You do so love your poetry."

"John Keats is a marvel with words."

"Oh, I recognize that name."

"You should. He's from London."

She felt a bit of embarrassment at not knowing a famous poet lived close to home.

They quickened their pace to cross an intersection, Ben's arm firmly folded so he could keep a hold of her. When on the other side, she felt a need to explain her lack of knowledge. "I know I should read more. But it's hard for me to give up my practice time–"

"Hey, we all have things we love to do, and they're not all going to be the same. Keep playing your cello," he told her, eyes impossibly kind. "Never stop. Alright?"

Lorraine swallowed. "If you insist."

"I most certainly do." He curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear, finger trailing down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire behind. "I'm glad your parents agreed to let me take you out tonight."

"Well, it's not like we are alone." They both glanced over their shoulders, seeing a rather bored Armitage trailing a bit behind them. "We have our token babysitter to make sure we behave."

"Mmm," Ben mused. "What if we don't behave? You think he'll tattle on us?"

Before Lorraine could respond, Ben grabbed her hand and darted across the street. Lorraine gathered her dark blue skirt in her other hand, laughing as they wound through the thickening crowd. In the distance, she could hear Armitage calling out to them.

A few disgruntled bystanders yelled in offense at their raucous behavior, which just made Lorraine laugh even more. Ben slowed their pace, halting the hurried cadence of their steps before tugging her through a door. A bell rang overhead, announcing their arrival, but Lorraine didn't have time to see if anyone noticed. Ben's hands went to her waist as he positioned them behind a pair of mannequins wearing the latest in women's fashion.

They were close. Thanks to her recent growth spurt, Lorraine was almost flush with Ben's chest, their heavy breathing intermingling in the small space between them. There was a flame in his eyes that burned brightly, his stare bouncing between her cheeks, nose, hair… and lips.

"Do you think we lost him?" she whispered.

"What?" Ben blinked and took a step back, looking as if he were mentally traveling back from somewhere deep within himself. He glanced around the mannequins, peering through the window. "Yeah, I think so. I don't see him."

"Can I help you with something?" a feminine voice came from behind.

Ben and Lorraine whirled around, both looking as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have. And by the way the sales associate eyed them, she had her suspicions.

Ben recovered first, a hand running through his tousled hair. "Yes, I was wanting to purchase a dress for the lady." Lorraine's eyes snapped to him. "Something sophisticated, but could be worn during the day. Preferably a deep, rich green. Do you have anything of the sort?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, doubting they were here to actually make a purchase. "We do. Some are more expensive than others–"

"Money is not an issue," Ben interjected with slight annoyance.

The woman's interest seemed to spike from his comment. "Of course. Let me show you our latest collection. All made from the finest materials. Cotton has come back in popularity, but silk and chiffon…."

They followed the worker throughout the shop as she rambled about the latest fashion trends and fabrics, the woman giving them plenty of options to choose from. Lorraine was drawn to the one that had beautiful embroidery on the bodice, while Ben was more attached to a more simplistic style of green velvet with no added flare.

"But the work on this one"–Lorraine lightly touched the leaf pattern–"is stunning. It really catches the eye."

"It is beautiful, but we don't need unwanted men staring at you," Ben simply stated. "And the cut will show a little too much of your chest." He pointed to the one he preferred, addressing the employee. "We'll take this one."

And that was that. Decision made. Her opinion overlooked as easily as the beggars on each corner of the block.

Lorraine's eyes stung, because…. Well, she couldn't immediately place the emotion she was feeling.

"Fine choice," the sales woman cooed as she grabbed the dress. "You can come up to the front with me while our seamstress gets her measurements. Wait here, dear, and Ollena will be out in a moment."

Ben followed the worker without even a glance in Lorraine's direction, looking to be pleased with what he had picked for her. It was such a little thing, what he had done… choosing what she would wear. But why did it tear at her so? It really shouldn't even matter. He had sent her plenty of dresses and skirts and blouses from New York, spoiling her while they were apart. He would even throw in the occasional piece of jewelry, hat, or a pair of shoes.

He had bought her things before. But this was the first time she had actually gone shopping with him.

And from the small exchange a moment ago, her soaring happiness had fallen to a despair so quickly, it clawed right through her bones. It was an emotional whiplash she wasn't used to.

"This dress was better, if you ask me."

Lorraine spun around, seeing Armitage standing by the dress she had wanted, his fingers lightly touching the sleeve of the fabric.

His brows furrowed. "Did you get something in your eyes?" There was a tinge of concern in his tone. "They look to be watering."

"Oh." Lorraine turned her head away, patting at her lower lash line to alleviate the moisture. Self-conscious. "Yeah, you know… the dust outside… it's everywhere. Getting in my eyes. Such a problem."

She met his stare, trying to stand tall. He didn't say anything, his eyes trailing up and down her form. Ben would do the same sometimes, but it was different when Armitage was taking her in. While Ben was tender with his gaze, Armitage seemed… calculating.

Almost fifteen, Lorraine was beginning to bud into a young woman, her figure changing and her face maturing. It was a common occurence to find more and more men staring at her, some even complimenting her beauty. She was growing used to the attention… even sometimes liking it. Craving it.

But with Armitage, she just couldn't figure the man out. There were times when it seemed he didn't care for her, and others where she was his sole focus, his stare not quite unnerving her, but not making her feel comfortable either.

"Looks like you found us," Lorraine said, attempting to fill the silence between them.

Armitage nodded, his eyes switching over to roaming about the shop. "Ben loves buying you expensive things. Especially dresses. Wasn't too hard to figure out where you two had run off to."

Just then, Ollena made an appearance, asking to get Lorraine's measurements. The older woman was quick with her tape measure, writing down Lorraine's sizes in a small booklet she had taken out of her skirt pocket.

Armitage watched the whole time.

When Ollena got everything she needed, she scurried away and disappeared through a door that was only for employees.

Lorraine glanced to Ben by the register, seeing that him and the sales associate were going through the jewelry that was encased in the glass display. He hadn't called her over to ask her about the additional adornments. She knew he'd end up choosing what pleased him the most, something he would want to see her wear.

"If I were filthy rich, I'd buy a pretty girl nice things, too," Armitage commented, also watching Ben.

"How long had you been listening?" Lorraine asked, disregarding his remark. "Before Ben left with the sales woman," she clarified.

"Long enough to hear how Ben disregarded your opinion entirely."

That stung.

"He–he isn't wrong," Lorraine weakly argued, an attempt to soothe her pride. "The dress was too mature for me."

"Says who?" He got in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "Ben?"

"No." _Yes_, her mind told her. "I mean… it's just how society is."

Armitage shrugged. "Things are changing. Women are realizing they are no longer beholden to societal standards that were made by men."

"You're a man."

Armitage found that amusing, crossing his arms over his chest as he lightly laughed. "True. But I don't believe a woman's whole purpose is to be an obedient wife and give her husband children. Women have passions and intellect and shouldn't be kept away in a house, being told what to do or"–he motioned around at the store–"what to wear."

"Ben isn't like that." Lorraine wasn't able to keep the doubt from her voice.

Armitage shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers, giving another one of those annoying know-it-all shrugs. "All I know is that he talks about how excited he is to finally be married, to have a wife who can converse with him about literature. Who can plan parties with the other spouses of the men that work with him. Someone to run his house and take care of him and to be there to listen to him after he's had a hard day." Armitage stepped closer, just outside of the circle of Lorraine's personal space. Lowering his voice, he said, "If I was betrothed to a woman like you, I wouldn't hold you back. Your dreams would be something you should go obtain, not hide in journal entries. You could be one of the most famous cellists in the world."

Lorraine was taken aback. Was he coming onto her? Or was he really speaking of a woman he'd yet to meet? She opened her mouth to ask him to be more specific, but snapped her jaw shut when she saw Ben coming toward them.

A smile of satisfaction was etched onto his lips. He clapped Armitage on the shoulder, oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "Looks like we've been caught."

Armitage snorted, his usual air of indifference back in full force. "Wasn't too hard. I just followed the sound of money being spent and it led me right to you."

"I could buy you a pretty jacket while we're here. I'm sure they have your size."

"Funny," Armitage deadpanned.

Ben's attention went to Lorraine. "They said the dress will be done within the week, and I threw in a few surprises that I think you'll like."

"Thank you, Ben." She did her best to sound appreciative. She _should_ be appreciative. "You really didn't need to buy me anything."

"Nonsense. It's my job to spoil you."

"Consider her well spoiled," said Armitage. "Now, can we please get out of here?"

They made their way to the front of the store, Rey trailing behind the two men.

"Anyone interested in grabbing a bite to eat?" Ben asked.

Armitage held the door open. "I think that's the best idea you've had all day. I'm famished from your childish antics of making me run after you two."

"We could go to a pub," Lorraine offered up as an option as they funneled onto the walkway. "I've never been to one before and I–"

"That's no place for a lady," Ben said matter-of-factly. "There was a café we passed a few blocks back. We can go there."

He held out his arm, waiting for her to take it. She did, because that's what was expected of her. Her other hand curled into a fist at her side, the only evidence of her irritation of not being listened to.

Before turning down the pathway, Lorraine caught Armitage staring at her with a knowing expression.

All throughout their meal, as Ben and Armitage talked and joked and praised Rey on her performance, all she could think about was what it would be like to be married. To be tied to a man for the rest of her life. To Ben. Was today just an anomaly? Or was it foreshadowing what was to come?

Ben kissed her on the cheek when dropping her off at her home, lingering a little longer than was appropriate. Not that she minded. He placed a folded paper in her hands, the one he'd been writing on during the ride back to her family estate.

"It's the thoughts I had throughout the night I haven't been able to tell you," he told her, a little nervous.

Rey decided to be a little playful, waggling her brow. "Did you write me some sensual sonnets?"

Ben didn't find her question humorous. "What? No, that would be highly inappropriate. We're betrothed, not married. I would never be so crass in a letter like that." His fingers pushed back his hair. "I just wrote down… some of my feelings, is all."

Rey looked down, nonplussed over her unbecoming query and the way Ben had lectured her. It's their age difference, she told herself. With ten years ahead of her, Ben's maturity was more advanced than hers. She would have to do better at being more proper and ladylike from now on.

"Give BB a good scratch behind the ears for me," said Ben, glancing to her house.

Her smile was quaint. "I will."

"I'll see you tomorrow… our last day together before I have to go back." There was sadness in his voice and eyes.

"You'll be back in October," she assured him. "It will be here before you know it."

"Only being able to see you every six months, staying here for a week… I just want more time with you."

Her palm was being pressed to his cheek before she even realized what she was doing, like her body had this overwhelming urge to comfort Ben when he looked so disheartened.

He was stone still by her touch, eyes wide, lips parting. There was that familiar buzzing current passing between them, traveling from her fingers and down her arm, nestling within her chest. It had happened a handful of times since they first met, each time more connecting than the last. Drawing them in. But unlike the other times, where they both pulled away, they drew near… and nearer… lips a hairbreadth apart…

Lorraine was jolted as Ben grabbed her shoulders and stepped away, her touch falling away from his cheek.

He stared at her, his breathing more labored, eyes wild.

He released his grip on her shoulders after a long moment. "You should go inside." His voice sounded as if he had drunk a liter of sand, rough and course.

But Lorraine, she didn't want that moment to end. She went to grab his hand. "Ben…"

He dodged her, shaking his head. "You're still too young, Lorraine."

Lorraine could read between the lines – he was calling her a child. "I see," she commented meekly.

His face fell, as if he could recognize her dissatisfaction. But he kept his distance. "Soon, I promise," he offered in a way of comfort. Probably more for him than her. "I just need you to wait a bit."

More like he needed her to grow up a bit.

Lorraine nodded, biting her tongue so she didn't argue.

They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. She dragged her feet against the hardwood floor and carpets, the feeling of dejection weighing her down. And it was all because of her age, something she had no control over. Why should she be punished for that? She was ready to be a woman.

As she crossed the dining room, she glanced out the window to see the stable emitting light from the inside. There was only one person who would be out there this late at night. A new sense of vigor ignited within her veins.

BB followed her through the kitchen and out the backdoor, staying close to her feet, but never causing her to trip.

The stable wasn't really a stable anymore. Before she had even been born, their family had moved away from animal husbandry and had transitioned to farming certain parts of their land with wheat, barley, and sugar beats. The stable was remodified to hold her father's various interests, most notably automobiles. Four were housed in there, her father tinkering with the two that weren't driven.

But there was a fifth that was to be delivered any day now, one Rey was eager to see.

Contrary to tinkering with the modern machinery, she had yet to drive one. She probably never would. Women were not allowed. Her father had given no indication of letting her behind the wheel in secret, nor had she the courage to ask him. Sir Kenobi was a stickler for the law. Maybe one day soon, she would find it within herself to posit such a request of him.

Moonlight dimly lit her surroundings as she walked across the thick grass, BB meowing down below. The double-doored entrance to the stable had been modified to allow cars to pass through, but it meant more muscle was needed to be opened. Lorraine tugged and pulled at the metal handle, opening one side enough for her to get through.

"Father?" she called out. Even though the stable had been wired with electricity, it was still subdued enough that she had to squint.

"Down here," her father called back.

Lorraine passed the stalls that housed the individual cars, finding her father at the end, wiping his oily hands on a dirty rag. He faced her in his blue work coveralls, smiling wide. It was one of the things Lorraine loved most about him: he was a part of the upper class, and yet, he loved getting elbow deep in oil and grease and working with his hands.

Lorraine shifted her gaze to the automobile behind him.

"It came?" she asked, almost not believing what she was seeing. A striking color of indigo painted the exterior, beautiful in its appeal and perfectly eye catching. The high boxed cab was slender and sleek, big enough to squeeze three people inside, or seat two comfortably. Toward the front, the large grill stood vertically narrow, silver metal work surrounding the perimeter with two headlights tightly placed on either side.

The hood was propped up. Rey could faintly see the inner workings.

"It actually got here yesterday," corrected her father.

Lorraine gaped at him. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want you to be distracted before your big debut. You were so focused on practicing all week." Her father glanced down at his dirty attire. "I'd hug you to give you another congratulations–"

Lorraine put her hands up to ward him off, chuckling. "That's alright. You stay over there."

He grinned, eyes warming. "I'm so proud of you, sweet girl. You were magnificent tonight. You were like an angel up there on the stage. I just… I can't believe how much you've grown up. That you can create such beautiful music."

Lorraine's face heated, appreciative to have such supportive parents. "Thank you, Father." She moved closer to the opened hood, peering inside, hands itching to take it all apart and put it back together again.

Her father moved to stand next to her, also pervaying the machinery. "Did you have a good time with Benjamin and Armitage?"

Her gut soured, but she didn't let it show. "Yes. Thank you for letting Ben take me around London."

"Trying to pry that man away from you is like trying to peel a barnacle off a whale." He laughed to himself. "It's damn hard to do."

Lorraine pressed her lips together.

She crossed over to the work table, grabbing and putting on an apron to shield her clothes. BB jumped and curled up next to the tools, head resting on his front paws, ready to watch them.

Rolling up the dark sleeves of her blouse, Lorraine asked, "So this is the Model A, then?"

"Not quite." Her father positioned himself on the other side of the hood, standing across from her. "It's been equipped with the 10 horsepower engine from Model C and it also has a larger six-by-three radiator. Since it's a mixture of both, it's a limited Model AC."

Rey's eyes roamed over it in wonder. "I thought Mister Solo said he was sending you the Model A?"

"Guess he wanted to surprise me."

"A good surprise, I'm sure." The tips of Rey's fingers ran along the metal on the outside, not a scratch to be seen. "Can I help you go through the inside?"

"Oh, no you don't," Lorraine's mother said as she walked in, her expression disapproving. "You shouldn't be tinkering with the automobile, Lorraine. What if you cut your hand like last time? Or break a finger? You have another performance next month."

"Please, Mother," she begged, sounding like a child and not even caring. "I'll wear protective gloves and I won't pick up anything heavy, I promise. I'll be so, so careful. And the last time I cut my hand was two years ago. I've been good ever since."

Her mother gave her a dry stare. Unconvinced.

Her father was the one who took pity on her. "She mainly just wants to watch, Satine. I'll only let her handle a little a bit."

"Yes, I'll…" Lorraine really had to get her hands on the engine, but knew she had to compromise. "... I'll mainly just watch, barely even touch anything. Promise."

Her mother sighed. "If anything happens–"

"It won't," Lorraine and her father said in unison, trying to hide their smiles.

Her mother regarded them, then dropped her arms to her sides. "Fine."

Lorraine rejoiced, clapping her hands together in triumph. Her father tried to give her mother a hug, but Satine jumped away from his advances, yelling at him that it would be his death if he got oil on her chiffon. She settled on giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"I swear, sometimes I feel like I have two children," her mother muttered as she left.

Lorraine and her father stayed out till 2 in the morning. It wasn't until she was swaying on her feet and slurring her words that her father decided that they should get some shut eye.

As Lorraine was lying in bed, BB tucked into her side and sleep pulling at her, she remembered Ben's note in the pocket of her skirt. She decided to read it when she woke in the morning, but the opportunity never came. A maid had taken her clothes and washed them while she slept in, the note morphing into unreadable mush.

When Ben asked her about it that afternoon, she pretended like she had read it, assuming it was similar to all the other letters he had written her. He was none the wiser.

Rey felt guilty for the lie, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him. The last thing she wanted to see were his eyes filling with sorrow. Or with disappointment… in her.

()()()()()

**Present Day – May 2nd, 2020**

"Rey!"

From where Rey sat at an open table in the small soup and sandwich shop, she lifted her head to the girl behind the counter who had called her name, holding the bag that held the sub she had ordered.

It was half past three in the afternoon, the lull between lunch and dinner making it so the only customers in the restaurant were her and the man and woman who were laughing and chowing down at one of the tables near the corner. They were obviously a couple from their body language… and the way the man kept finding ways to touch her arm and even at one point, wipe at her mouth with his napkin. The woman was smitten, adoring all of it.

It had to be the beginning of their relationship, when everything felt so new and exciting and extra intimate.

She'd had that with Ben. Eventually.

Admittedly, that first year of their marriage had been horrible, for reasons she didn't like to ponder over. It all led to a mental breakdown that prompted her to take one of Ben's automobiles, illegally drive it, and then get in an accident. She left with a concussion and a broken arm, which was lucky considering how totalled the car was. But after that… seeing Ben rushing to find her at the hospital, paying off the police officers and higher court officials to look the other way, everything changed between them. They were able to find that connection again, and Rey truly learned how to grow up and stop being selfish. Too late, though. Her past had come back to haunt her and kill Ben.

Every mistake has consequences, her mother would always tell her. Time will make you pay your dues sooner or later.

Rey grabbed her order and quickly left, stealing one more fleeting glance at the couple. They were smiling at each other as they chewed their food, cheeks puffed out like chipmunks.

She needed to get back to the theater. Needed to see Ben.

Throughout the week, she found that there were moments during rehearsal where she had to stare at him. She had to make sure that he was really there and solid and that he wouldn't just poof out of existence. She couldn't have him taken from her again.

Guess she was still a selfish human being. She didn't deserve him, not after everything she'd done. But she couldn't give him up. Not for anything.

Her throat was tightening, her pulse quickening from that compulsion to go to him and be comforted by just being in his presence.

Good thing the theater was only a few blocks away.

Rey turned sharply around the corner and barrelled right into another person… and then she quickly realized that it wasn't a person at all. Not in the mortal sense.

There was a prickling sensation that started at the base of her neck and flamed out into her shoulder blades as she looked at the considerably tall woman before her. It was the feeling she would get when a Reaper was close. Having Finn around so much had numbed her mostly to the feeling, like her body had grown accustomed to his presence and didn't react to it anymore. But this woman, a Reaper… Rey had never met her before.

"You should really watch where you're going," the woman said with an English accent. Not as sharp as Rey's, but still distinct.

Rey took a step back, taking the woman in and trying not to be obvious about it. The scowl on her face seemed like it was a permanent facial setting, as if smiling was an unacceptable exercise and she hadn't done it in decades. Cut just below the ears, her short blonde hair added to the sharpness of her jawline, her striking blue eyes doing nothing to soften her expression. And her attire, it was the same as Finns: black suit, black tie, black dress shoes.

The Reaper was both striking and imposing. Rey had to crane her head back to even look the woman in the eye, her height surpassing Ben's by a couple inches, at least.

Rey wasn't sure what to do.

Luckily, the Reaper made the decision for her by continuing on her way, leaving Rey to just stand there.

She hadn't seen or met another Reaper since Finn decided to stay with her back in 1926. As the years passed, she figured that being around Finn so much made it so she didn't really sense Reapers anymore. But this encounter proved her presumption to be false.

Rey ran the rest of the way to the theater, needing to have Ben close, and if possible, talk to Finn as well. Why had she encountered one of his kind after nearly a hundred years of not doing so? Did they know about their close friendship? That they were basically family? What if he was being investigated for being too much in the human world and they were starting to look into him by following her?

Okay, maybe that was a stretch. Rey was a nobody who was simply living with her own poor decisions and a curse. But still… something about that Reaper didn't sit well with her.

**A/N**

**The plot is slowly starting to form, and answers will be given. I hope you all enjoyed the update! I have a goal to get the next chapter out way quicker then this one. Waaaaaaaay quicker. :)**


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